Once Upon An Apocalypse
by clac234
Summary: Kate is caught up in the middle of the Green Flu pandemic while spending Spring Break in Savannah. Forced to evacuate the city alone, she meets up with Nick, Coach, Ellis, and Rochelle and joins them in an effort to be rescued.
1. Hit Me with Your Best Shot

"_That's okay, let's see how you do it; put up your dukes, let's get down to it!"_

Cliché as it must sound, I had never felt so alive. It was spring break, and, for the first time in my life, I was actually _doing_ something about it. My friend Amy and I were driving down to her parents' place in Georgia for the week. Granted, Savannah was no Fort Lauderdale or Palm Beach or anything, but it was a welcome change from the old days, when I'd spent most of break catching up on homework or lazing around my parents' house. Even considering all that, I had almost copped out and stayed home _again_. I had a million and a half excuses not to go…money, homework, upcoming tests…but I'd finally been convinced by a pouting Amy and a well placed smack from my younger sister.

I zipped down I-75 and let out a bit of a whoop when I saw the sign welcoming us to Georgia. We were finally close! Over a day straight in a car was enough to drive anyone nuts. Amy rolled her eyes a little at my enthusiasm, but indulged me by turning up the radio.

"I suppose this calls for a celebration?" she asked wryly. I lightly smacked her hand away from the controls. _Nobody_ touches the radio but me. I fitfully switched through the stations, despairing when I found nothing but country on. _It's been the same damn thing ever since we left Illinois…_I was definitely not in the mood for that. Hell, I was _never _in the mood for that. I finally found what I was looking for and cranked the volume once more.

"Pat Benatar, you have officially saved my life!" I yelled enthusiastically before proceeding to sing along tunelessly. Amy rolled her eyes with a grin and accompanied my mediocre karaoke with sarcastic drumming on the dashboard. We continued on like that all the way to Savannah, hours of pure, uninterrupted stupidity. I would have been lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. Acting like a complete nutcase once in a while was remarkably refreshing.

We drove into Savannah to the tune of "In the End". I convinced Amy, through the use of many puppy-dog faces and light threats of dumping her water bottle on her while she slept, to do the singing parts while I rapped. Of course, as the radio hates me, it stopped in the middle of the song for some news bulletin. I rolled my eyes in exasperation. _Who cares?_

"Oh, come _on_!" I complained, turning the radio off. I shrugged and counted down on my right hand. We finished the rest of the song from memory. It was infinitely more rewarding than listening to some useless news report. It couldn't be anything affecting us anyway. Usually, those announcements let people know when there was a tornado warning or something. I cocked an eyebrow sarcastically at the lovely, clear blue sky peering through the dirty windshield. The lack of any clouds or other threatening weather, of course, put me on red alert for a tornado. After all, anyone with half a brain knows tornadoes generally appear from thin air and attack people who don't listen to the radio in a valiant effort to balance karma.

I allowed Amy to direct me to her parents' house from there. It was only a few minutes before we pulled into the garage of a small, slightly weathered townhome. It looked perfect to me. So what if it was a little small? Hotel rooms were smaller and they weren't _free_.

Before I could so much as unbuckle my seat belt, Amy bolted into the house ahead of me, yelling, "Shotgun!" as she went. _What the hell?_ Then I went inside and heard the sound of her suitcase bouncing on the bed in her room. I walked in to see her perched primly on the bed.

"Okay, then. So where am I supposed to sleep?" I asked, half hoping to find a second bedroom. She raised an eyebrow and glanced through the open door at the living room. _Oh, good, I get the couch._ I relented and dragged my bag into the living room. "Whatever happened to Southern hospitality?" I called over my shoulder. She just grinned like a moron and stuck out her tongue.

I plopped my duffel bag unceremoniously on the couch in the living room and turned on the TV. I didn't even get the chance to change the channel before more beeping, warning bullshit appeared on the screen. I hastily changed the channel, only to find the same scroll crawling across the screen repeatedly. The same thing happened when I went to every other channel. All ten of them. _Ah, well. I can watch TV at home._

Amy was just coming out of her room when the phone rang. She skidded through the kitchen in her socks to answer it in time. I tuned out the conversation to the best of my ability. It was probably just her parents letting her know where they were. Frankly, it didn't matter much to me. Not that I had anything against them really, it was just much easier to enjoy oneself when parents weren't constantly checking up on you. I really didn't need someone to remind me that I should really be in bed by eleven and couldn't I turn down the radio? I was just thankful I'd gotten my check-up call out of the way early.

I wasn't picking up on the words of the conversation, but I caught the emotions. Amy's voice changed from the typical, placating tone generally used to reassure parents to a slightly worried one. I frowned, but decided it was none of my business. There was no point in prying. She hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment, seemingly confused. Just before I was going to ask what was wrong, she perched on the edge of the couch and spoke to the wall.

"Mom's sick," she started, "Dad took her to the doctor and he got…kind of freaked out for some reason. Evidently he wasn't actually _saying_ anything to show that, but Dad could see it in his face, you know?" I nodded. "He said the doctor wanted to run some tests up at the hospital. There was a bunch of other people there for the same thing. Dad said he got the feeling they wanted all of them to be in one place or something." I sighed mentally. Why was it that people always came to me for venting or advice? I wasn't exactly great at handling those sorts of situations. My bluntness usually got in the way of any potential to seem tender. Sure, I empathized with the people I spoke with, I just didn't really know how to help them.

"Could be flu season, I suppose," I said with my usual _scintillating_ psychiatrist voice. _Sure. Flu season isn't in March, genius_. She nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip.

"I suppose," she said doubtfully, "But what if it's that crap from Pennsylvania?" I resisted the impulse to roll my eyes. The new flu of the year had been starting up in Pennsylvania a couple weeks ago, but I wasn't too worried about it. Most people barely gave it more attention than swine flu…and that was only because it had originated _here_ rather than overseas. Harder to ignore. I shook my head.

"I don't think so. How would it get down here that fast? Besides, if it was a big deal, the doctors would've told your dad by now. So it's probably nothing to worry about."

*/*/*/*/*

The next few days were awful. The power went out a few minutes after Amy's dad called, so we were basically stuck listening to an ancient, battery powered radio for news. We spent the first couple of days listening to a radio constantly interrupted by static and playing cards. It wasn't exactly how I'd envisioned my first independent spring break. I tried bringing up going to the beach or park or something, but Amy was more than reluctant to go outside. She believed the warnings in the news reports much more than I did.

During this time, Amy became increasingly sick. It didn't seem like such a big deal at first; maybe it was a cold. She rolled her eyes, finally convinced the whole situation seemed cartoonish and ridiculous rather than believable and scary, and we stocked up on cold medicine, tissues, and junk food at the nearest gas station. Most of the bigger chain stores were closed already. They couldn't operate during the blackout.

It went downhill fast after that. What had initially looked like an annoying cold quickly transformed into something worse. Amy spent most of her time cooped up in her room, trying to recover. I listened to the radio alone. What little I could hear was increasingly frantic. Warnings about blackouts turned into warnings about quarantines. I couldn't quite understand what was going on exactly; the radio always seemed to conveniently dissolve into mind-numbing static whenever something important came up. I had no computer. I had no phone since I had ingeniously used most of the charge on the trip south and neglected to pack its charger. I had no contact with the outside world save the incompetent radio.

Finally, a day came where the radio was mostly news and miraculously understandable. I turned the volume up slightly and listened intently. "…has declared a nationwide state of emergency," the broadcast began, "Report unusual behavior. Barricade your homes. Avoid all contact with infected individuals. Wait for official instructions." The broadcast faded out for a minute, then repeated itself. _Useful._ Obviously, I had missed something important. Infected individuals? What the hell was going on? My heart was pounding in my chest as I tried to think calmly about the situation we'd gotten ourselves into. Referring to my ample knowledge of video games, I checked the windows and doors. It wouldn't work. There were far too many ways for "infected individuals" to get in. Besides, what help would barricading ourselves inside the middle of an apparent quarantine zone possibly be? We had a very limited supply of food, and, as far as I could tell, no weaponry to speak of. Not to mention, I really didn't have much to barricade _with_. What was I supposed to do? Lean every piece of furniture across the windows myself? I didn't have the strength, and it was obvious Amy wouldn't be of any help in her state. She'd been asleep in her room for the past twenty-four hours at least.

I shook my head. No, there was no way I was just going to sit tight and get myself killed. I started packing the remaining junk food into my duffel bag, then strategically dumped it into a nearby backpack instead. It would be a hell of a lot easier to move with the food secure on my back rather than flopping all over the place. I tore the kitchen apart looking for water bottles, thankful the tap still worked. I filled every bottle I could find and stuffed them in with the food. I threw the backpack over my shoulder, frowning at the light weight, and dumped it in the backseat of my car, leaving the keys in the ignition for a quick getaway. _Now for the fun part. Trying to move a sick and irritable person roughly your size to the car without issues._

I slowly opened the door to Amy's bedroom, frowning when I didn't see her in bed. Then I heard it. A soft, heartbroken sobbing in the corner of the room. Amy looked ridiculously pale and gaunt, probably a mark of her illness. She had curled into a ball, rocking back and forth rhythmically. _Maybe she somehow heard some news about her mother?_ I reached out a hand to comfort her, awkwardly touching her lightly on the shoulder.

As soon as I touched her, she whirled around, screaming at me unintelligibly, hands outstretched. One hand ripped through the air and raked across my right arm, leaving three angry red streaks. I was too shocked to scream. It was like a dream, one where you couldn't run because you were constantly tripping or couldn't scream because your voice was gone. I was positive my friend didn't exist anymore. Her hair had turned pale and lank. Her eyes had been dyed a shocking shade of brilliant red. But worst of all, the nails on her hands were gone, leaving in their wake foot-long, razor sharp claws. None of the quarantine warnings could have prepared me for this.

I expected her to continue attacking me, but instead, her face cleared and she retreated back to her corner. I fled the room as quickly and quietly as I could. Bolting through the house, I shut myself in my car and locked the doors, panting heavily. My arm was steadily turning red with blood. I took a few more panting breaths to calm myself. I needed to slow down. I needed to _think_. Finally, my heart slowed to a less maniacal pace. I mopped up the mess on my arm with my jacket and tied the arms around it as tightly as I could. Denim probably wasn't the best bandage, nor the most sanitary, but I had a crazy monster in the house right now and didn't exactly have access to anything else.

I forced myself to accept the fact that my best friend had turned into a mutated monster. It seemed I would be evacuating alone. I turned the key in the ignition and heard the usual roar. This was followed by more cries, almost in answer. My heart settled somewhere in the vicinity of my throat. I saw the figure of monster-Amy silhouetted in the open door. She looked absolutely furious. I didn't take any chances. I immediately shifted into reverse, gunning the gas and crashing through the garage door. I heard a series of sickening thumps as I ran over the source of the earlier noise: a crowd of slack-jawed, rabid-looking…zombies.

I careened into the street, followed by the clawed demon. She managed to break the passenger side window, showering the seat with bits of glass, before I shifted into drive and promptly got the hell out of there.

I desperately turned on the radio, hoping for some direction. The station I'd been listening to earlier was just broadcasting the same completely useless information as before. So naturally, I swore loudly at the radio and switched to a different station. This one decided to give me some _actual_ information.

"Evacuation Zones have been set up throughout the country. Current operating evacuation zones are located in the following cities. Olympia, Washington. San Diego, California. Duluth, Minnesota. Chicago, Illinois. Boston, Massachusetts. New Orleans, Louisiana. Galveston, Texas." Using my knowledge from fifth grade geography for once in my life, I gathered that I should be going to New Orleans. I drove as fast as I could through the neighborhood, dodging as many of the…zombies…as I possibly could. I couldn't afford to further damage the car.

I was almost on the highway when a car crashed into the road ahead of me. I screeched to a jolting stop just in time and started to maneuver around the vehicle when I saw it. It wasn't human. It couldn't have ever _been_ human. It was _huge._ It looked like some kind of hairless gorilla on steroids. I gunned it and got out of dodge. I furtively checked the rearview mirror just in time to see it _rip a chunk of the street off and throw it at me._ It missed by a couple of feet, the jarring impact cracking the pavement. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ It was a moment before I realized I was saying it out loud.

I tried to remain calm as I played a harrowing game of dodge-the-zombie all the way to the highway. The path seemed relatively clear. In fact, I felt like I was making decent progress. There were very few cars on the road, all of which were stopped and most of which were pulled off to the side of the road. I was doing eighty the entire time, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.

The sun was beginning to set directly in my eyes. I figured I needed to stop eventually; I needed to get some sleep if I was going to succeed in…not crashing and killing myself. The road, however, decided for me. I barely saw the pileup in time. I ground on the brakes for probably the fiftieth time that day and skidded to a clumsy stop. I cautiously exited my car and stood on top of the hood for a better view. It seemed as if the cars went on for miles and miles. There was no way in hell I would be able to drive through this. _Well, if I'm going to die, I might as well get some sleep first._ I hopped off the car and climbed into the backseat (checking first for any unwanted hitchhikers), locking the doors several times. As I lay down, the exhaustion and stress of the day finally caught up to me. I didn't have time to worry or even think. My head wobbled a little and I soon surrendered to sleep.

_A/N: I'm back, finally! I'm reposting my story with a few minor changes…let me know what you think!_


	2. Thunderstruck

"_My mind raced, and I thought what could I do? And I knew there was no help, no help from you!"_

I wasn't entirely sure why I was awake. I had almost gotten my arm ripped off by the monster formerly known as Amy and driven through a goddamn warzone. I should have slept like a baby for once. _Okay, insomnia. It is completely rude and uncalled for to continue to show up in the middle of the apocalypse. You're the last thing I need now, so go away please._ I snuggled deeper into the seat, hoping for sleep to return and trying to ignore the, for lack of a better word, _crusty_ feeling from my jacket covered arm. No way was I moving until daylight. Those things were bad enough when I could see them coming. Personally, I wasn't interested in dying…at least not today.

I heard a car door slam. I bolted upright in my seat, succeeding in banging my head into the ceiling. _Idiot_. Rubbing my pounding forehead, I peered out the rear windshield.

If I wasn't mistaken, there was a racecar parked behind me. I frowned and my eyebrows drew together. _Um…okay. What the hell?_ I could vaguely make out some movement behind the car, but couldn't distinguish anything specific. So there were people. Well, they were people for _now_ anyway. _You won't be any worse off for joining them…if they turn into zombie freaks, you're on your own again. So stop dithering and get your ass out of the car. _I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find, a squeegee of all things, and opened the door. The small sounds of movement stopped immediately.

I could see the group more clearly now. There was a fortyish-looking man in front with a tight-lipped frown on his face and a shotgun in his hands. I could vaguely make out a short woman behind him. Towering over them both was a gigantic older man. By the looks of him, he had probably been an athlete in his youth. The stomach on him, apocalypse be damned, proved those days were far behind him. There was a third man standing in the background. The only thing I could tell clearly was that he seemed a lot younger than the rest of the group. All of them were covered in ominous looking bloodstains. I quashed my unease and stepped forward to introduce myself.

"Um…mind if…" was about all I got in before I found myself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. No one could have blamed me for promptly shutting the hell up. There aren't many people who tend to be talkative at gunpoint.

"Are you immune?" the man behind the gun barked at me. I did my best to silence the litany of panic screaming in my head and glared at him, adopting his own scare tactics.

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" I spat back, annoyed at the slight waver in my voice. He rolled his eyes skyward, then took a deep breath.

"Have you had any contact with the infected?" he asked slowly, almost like he was talking to a second grader. I raised an eyebrow and slowly shook the jacket off my right arm, allowing it to fall to the asphalt. It must've looked pretty awful (I didn't have the stomach to look right then). There was a collective intake of breath. Even the asshole threatening to blow my brains out seemed to wince a little. I forced myself to smile sarcastically at them.

"I suppose you could say that," I said casually. The gun was lowered. Evidently I passed initiation. If I was going to be brutally honest, I couldn't really say I blamed them for giving me the third degree. Humans wanted themselves to survive. Kill or be killed. Something like that. "Shall we start over? My name's Kate." I started, extending a hand. I tried to sound nonchalant, but my voice was still a little shaky from, you know, having a gun halfway up my nose.

"Nick. Name's Nick," the owner of the shotgun forced out, ignoring my proffered hand. _Jerk._ I dropped my hand and pushed past him pointedly. _I thought we just established I'm not _diseased.

"My name's Rochelle," the next person said, smiling slightly. _Well, at least she doesn't seem like a Grade-A douche bag._

"Nice to meet you, Rochelle," I said politely, turning to the next person. I had to crane my neck a little just to meet his eyes.

"People just call me Coach," he said.

"Nice to meet you," I repeated. The last person came forward, enthusiastically grasping my hand and shaking it.

"My name's Ellis, but some people call me El. I really prefer Ellis as El sounds like a girl's name. But if you prefer to call me El you can," he let out. I couldn't help smiling at his friendly manner, despite the fact that he'd grabbed my right hand and shaken my injured arm all over the place. _How he manages that _now_ is beyond me_.

"Nice to meet you…Ellis," I said, vaguely amused. Nick let out a snort behind me.

"Annoying, isn't he?" he muttered. I rolled my eyes and turned a saccharine face toward him.

"Why, yes…yes you are," I informed him childishly. He glared at me and I grinned back innocently.

I felt a tentative tap on my shoulder and whirled around, very nearly whacking Ellis across the face with my squeegee. I felt my cheeks burning. It was obvious Rochelle, Coach, and Ellis were trying to stifle laughter. Nick didn't bother shutting up, naturally. Ellis coughed a little.

"Um…you ain't particularly attached that, are ya?" he asked, eyes straying to my current, bright blue weapon. He held out a large pistol. Smiling with chagrin, I dropped the squeegee and took the pistol. The weight felt weird in my hand. Unnatural. _I suppose I'm going to have to get used to it._

"Thanks," I muttered, experimentally cocking the gun. I noticed everyone was staring at me again. _They had better not be making a habit out of this_. "Now what?" I asked, exasperated. I had definitely had enough attention, alive and undead, for the day. Then I noticed what they were all staring _at_. The scratches on my arm were coated in dried blood and looked painfully gory. My stomach turned at the sight. Ellis shrugged and grinned at me.

"Ain't got no use for this anyhow. I ain't gonna get shot," he said. He leaned over to inspect the damage on my arm. To be honest, that made me a little nervous. Ellis looked to be about my age. How could he possibly know what he was doing? _You can't exactly head into Urgent Care right now, dumbass_. Fair point.

I was about to settle in to a presumably painful experience involving disinfectant and stitches when I saw a literal horde of the infected zombies running toward us. One zombie was far ahead of the rest, eager to…eat our brains…or whatever it was they did. Without thinking, I whipped up my pistol in my left hand and fired one shot at the lead zombie, aiming at his chest. The gun let off a terrific bang, jerked my hand violently upward, and the bullet pierced the leader's head, splattering bits of skull and brain everywhere. _Boom, headshot!_

By then, of course, the others had figured out what was going on and were steadily mowing down the horde. My pistol was far more effective than I had believed it could be. There was a name for it; I just couldn't quite place it. A detached part of my mind searched for that while the more significant portion pinpointed zombie after zombie, leaving them motionless on the highway. When I ran out of ammunition, a whole eight shots later, I whacked my attackers in the head or torso as they came close.

The horde seemed to last forever, although in reality the whole scene probably only took a couple of minutes. The only sounds were our heavy breathing and the ringing after-noise from the firing of five guns at once.

"You gave her a goddamn _Magnum_?" Nick asked incredulously, breaking the near-silence, "She could have shot your head off, you moron!" I glanced back at him, fighting back an annoyed glare.

"Well, I didn't," I said coolly, walking to the back of the racecar. I had seen the group working back there before and assumed there might be some ammunition for my newly acquired _Magnum_. "Shit," I muttered under my breath, looking at the assortment of shotguns, silenced machine guns, pistols, and ammo sitting just behind the trunk. I realized with a frown that I had absolutely _no_ idea how to reload my gun, let alone how to recognize the clips it took. _Whatever happened to "press x to reload"?_ I had resigned myself to picking through the pile by size, when, once again, Ellis showed up next to me. He fished through the daunting pile and found several fitting clips within seconds. He then took the Magnum from my hand, slowly ejected the used clip, and reloaded it.

"Good to go?" he asked. Speechless, I merely nodded. We both got up and returned to the group.

"Well, obviously we've been staying in one place too long," Nick said, pointedly looking at Rochelle. Coach nodded.

"Probably right. We should start headin' out," he said, starting to walk further down the highway. I shrugged to myself and followed the group closely. We picked our way around the parked cars, mostly navigating through the grassy median.

"Hey! Whispering Oaks!" Coach boomed, reading a nearby billboard and nearly making me jump out of my skin. "Shit, I used to go there when I was a kid!"

"Oh good," Nick commented, "Now we can die there as adults." As was becoming my custom around him, I rolled my eyes at his words. _Why, thank you for that optimistic observation, Nick. I'll be sure to ask for your input in the future, as it so clearly boosts team morale._

At Coach's direction, we all headed down the nearest off ramp. Evidently we were heading to the damned theme park. On the horizon, I could see searchlights. _Hmm. Lots of bright lights and colors. Now _that_ seems like just the place that would escape the zombies' attention._ Okay, maybe he had a point. The lights might have been left on for a reason. It was entirely possible, I supposed, that the government would be running evacuations from someplace like that. _It just doesn't seem very damn likely._ It wasn't as if I had any other options. From the look of that horde earlier, I wouldn't last a minute on my own. _What was that about you not being worse off if your buddies got infected?_ Shut up.

There was a giant truck sitting in the middle of the off ramp, headlights blazing. A huge pile of bodies was spread in front of it, the headlights illuminating the gory scene in stark relief. The harsh smell was enough to make me gag. There was no visible reaction in the others. I surmised they were used to all this by now, supposing that was even possible. After a quick stop to check for supplies, we moved on down the road, shooting stray zombies. Before we had gone far, we found a giant semi truck blocking the path.

"Highway's blocked," Rochelle stated, "We can cut though this motel." _Couldn't we walk around it or something? It'd be a different story if we were in a car. Oh well. I suppose the shortcut through the No Tell Motel is on the way to those searchlights._ We turned off the road and wandered through the lower levels of the motel. The silence was starting to bother me. It felt like something was waiting in the shadows for the right moment to attack, a moment none of us would be expecting. In a weird way, it reminded me of the old Looney Tunes cartoons. _Uh…you ever have the feeling you were being watched? Boy, what I wouldn't give to be attacked by the Gossamer right now._

We searched through the motel rooms for supplies. Roughly inventoried, we found two bottles of pain pills, two giant-ass syringes (adrenaline apparently), and about two thousand four hundred ninety nine dead, rapidly decomposing corpses. _Ugh…I hate needles._

We finally emerged on the other side of the semi. It would have taken us a whole two minutes to walk around the damn truck, but we had to go traipsing through the motel to get drugs. I was beginning to doubt the sanity of our wise and benevolent leaders.

"Hey, watch your footing. This gully looks steep," Ellis said, interrupting my sarcastic train of thought.

Directly behind the motel was what amounted to…a cliff. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a _little_…there was a slope sort of, but it might as well have _been_ a cliff. I had a bad image in my head of falling head over heels down the thing into a bunch of zombies at the bottom. I wasn't exactly the queen of hand-eye coordination. We were all preparing to head down the cliff when the sound of maniacal laughter reached our ears. _Lovely. This sounds promising._ I aimed my gun toward the sound, praying it wasn't something like that shaved gorilla from the middle of the road back in Savannah. As much knockdown power as my gun had, I didn't think it would do very well against _that_. We were all gathered with our backs to the cliff, the others murmuring "jockey" over and over.

Suddenly, a demented leprechaun popped out from the back of the motel and hopped directly on Rochelle's back, bullets be damned. Of course, the impact took her right down the cliff, screaming all the way. Nick awkwardly started skidding down the slope after her, swearing loudly. The rest of us heard an ominous roar in the distance. _Shit. Another horde. Just what we need._ Learning our lesson, the rest of us stepped away from the cliff and stood with our backs to the wall of the motel. It's a lot easier to shoot when you're not being attacked from behind. I knelt down in front of Coach and Ellis just before the horde rounded the corner.

It seemed the zombies were going to go for the more immediate meal. Only a few chanced the cliff, yowling all the way down, while the rest tried their best to kill us. I aimed mostly to immobilize. There was no point wasting ammo going for another headshot. The first one had been pure luck anyway. I kept blasting the kneecaps of the zombies surrounding us, a grim almost-smile on my face spreading from a part of me I hadn't known existed.

Finally, covered in fresh blood and assorted unidentifiable body parts, we emerged from the remnants of our attackers. We re-approached the Cliff O'Death. Coach peered down to the bottom.

"Nick? Ro?" he called out.

"Get your asses down here!" _Wow. Three guesses who said that. First two don't count_. Coach, seeming to take Nick's command literally, starting scooting down the incline on his ass. I attempted to pick my way down the hill on foot, only to succeed in fulfilling my earlier prophecy and falling flat on my ass, tumbling the rest of the way and landing in a sprawling pile in some urine colored water. _Lovely_. Ellis came down soon after, trying to pull a Tarzan and failing miserably. He shook it off a lot better than me. Hell, he was still smiling about it! He even managed to pull me up out of the piss water while I was staring.

"You okay?" he asked. Evidently I had taken too long getting up. I brushed myself off and rolled my shoulders like a good little soldier.

"I'm fine," I said, half smiling to make sure I didn't sound snarky. It was expected for me to be in a bad mood after falling down a hill into diseased water, but I wasn't about to take it out on anyone. _Well, maybe Nick_.

We all regrouped, Rochelle swaying on her feet. No wonder. She had a giant cut on her forehead, accompanied by a number of little welts and a spreading stain of red on one leg of her jeans. She smiled a little.

"That was almost…fun," she slurred out, almost falling over. _Oh, boy. This ought to be great. How the hell is she going to get moving with a concussion?_ Okay, to be honest, I wasn't exactly thrilled with the idea of dragging an incapacitated person God knows how far in the middle of all this shit. However, I couldn't just abandon my morals just because lives were at stake. I guess it was a residual effect from my lessons in kindergarten; treat others how you would want to be treated. Oddly enough, I _didn't_ want to get left behind to die. Of course, I was really hoping the others would agree with me. Although I would do it if I had to, I didn't want to have to drag Rochelle around by myself while the others went ahead. Luckily, everyone else seemed like minded. Coach threw her over his shoulder like a giant sack of potatoes before there was really any discussion.

"Ain't enough time to fix her up out here," he explained, moving forward. We sloshed through the shallow water. My socks and shoes were soaked through instantaneously. My feet squished unpleasantly with every step. _And there's an outhouse over there. Fan-fucking-tastic. Gee, I wonder what I could _possibly_ be stepping in? Oh, well. Let's see, optimistic thoughts…the zombies seem to have cleared up for now anyway._

Jinx.

Of course, as soon as the thought entered my mind, zombies came pouring out of the figurative woodwork. Most of them were rushing down the gigantic hill in front of us. This one, at least, wasn't as steep and nasty as the Cliff O'Death from earlier…it at least looked scalable. On the other hand, this one had a bunch of zombies running one another over in an effort to kill us. _It's over Anakin! I have the high ground!_

Coach somehow managed to blast zombies with his shotgun one-handed while balancing Rochelle, who was attempting to fire an empty pistol, on his shoulder with the other. It was a good thing I hadn't really been required to aim this entire time. Aiming isn't required when every target is less than a foot from you. I finally found a practical use for my karate skills. It provided some much needed space when I needed to reload; I'd kick any zombie coming near me while I shakily reloaded.

The dust settled and we were knee deep in zombie parts for at least the third time in an hour. I was so worn out, my knees were shaking a little. I tried to tone it down with some deep breaths. The last thing I needed was to be considered a liability.

"Up the hill!" Coach said, starting the trek with much huffing and puffing. _Gah! All this endless walking is going to drive me to drink_. I shook my head violently and started jogging up the hill, keeping my knees up cross country style. We finally reached the top, most of us choking in air in a painfully audible way.

"Whispering Oaks! We made it!" Coach managed.

"Hey! We got a safe room right ahead!" Ellis called, barely winded. It was almost like trying to tire out a five-year-old. Where in the _hell_ was all this energy coming from? The rest of us all looked dead on our feet. We started toward the promising porch light, but froze when we heard a loud bellow from somewhere in front of us.

"_Charger!_" _Oh, for the love of God, _now_ what?_ What looked like a giant arm came running directly at us, bellowing for all it was worth. This time, we all managed to get the hell out of the way, falling flat on our faces in an attempt not to get sent flying back down the hill. Adrenaline coursed through me and I felt suddenly energized. I popped back onto my feet and followed the others, making a run for the porch light. I could hear the damn thing regrouping behind us. And, lucky me, I was the last one in line. _Don't look back. Don't look back. Don't look back_. I was almost to the door when I heard the threatening bellow sound again.

I darted through the door and landed unceremoniously on the hard floor. I heard the door shut with a clang, followed by the noise of bars locking it in place. I turned onto my back, watching the scene propped on my elbows.

The "charger" was probably one of the nastiest looking things I'd ever seen. It looked like it had pulled an all-nighter in a _Saw_ movie. One of its arms was huge, meaty, and cracked. The other dangled limply at its side. I felt like it was staring directly at me, eyes narrowed. It was still bellowing and grunting, swinging its mutated arm at the barricaded door. A shot rang out and the beast finally fell.

"_Shit,_" I croaked, falling back to the ground.

_A/N: And, yes, I did change the main character's name. Honestly, that's pretty much the biggest change I made…_


	3. Man in Motion

"_Play the game, you know you can't quit until it's won."_

"Let's rest for a few minutes," Coach said as soon as the charger hit the floor. _Thanks for that, Coach. I wasn't planning on getting up for a few years anyway._

Nick was patching Rochelle up in the corner. The ripping sound of gauze being unwrapped seemed almost silent; the ringing in my ears trumped most other sounds. To be honest, I felt kind of useless. Before today, I had never fired a gun in my life. I wasn't exactly the best shot and knew jack shit about medicine. My pessimistic side began eating at me now that I was safe. Well, safe-ish.

I felt guilty about joining this group. They obviously had a lot more experience than me. They all seemed fairly comfortable around firearms. Hell, the guys seemed like they'd been shooting since I was in diapers. I probably couldn't fire a shotgun if my life depended on it…which it probably did. I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do if we found one of the giant monsters? With the gun I _was_ able to shoot, I might as well be firing a stapler at it.

Coach was standing in front of Rochelle, shining his flashlight into her eyes. I suppose he was trying to figure out whether she actually _had_ a concussion. Damned if I knew how to figure that out. I could probably figure out how to wrap someone's cut or something, but that was about it. All I knew about first aid I had learned from a combination of distributing Band-Aids to my younger sisters and TV. So I sort of knew CPR from _The Office_.

The point was, I was beyond useless to the team. I was a liability. I needed to be protected rather than integrated into their tactics. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I was finally feeling the dizziness from loss of blood again. How could I honestly expect them to keep me around when I was just going to get them killed? If one of them died trying to protect me or help me keep up, I would be the only one responsible.

_Hate to remind you, but you've killed _plenty_ of people. _Bile rose in my throat at the thought. My mind flashed back to that initial headshot. The image played in my head in slow motion. It held a frightening significance. It was the first person I'd ever killed. It felt wrong. I tried to tell myself that they weren't human anymore. _But they had been_. I tried to tell myself it was self defense. _But you _smiled_ while you were doing it, remember? _Terrific. Not only was I completely useless, but I was evidently psychotic.

"I ever tell you about the time me and Keith made a homemade bumper car ride with riding mowers in his back yard?" Ellis said suddenly, snapping me out of my disturbing thoughts. "Mower blade wounds over ninety percent of his body. I didn't run him over, either. He somehow managed to fall under his own…"

"Ellis, sweetie, can this wait?" Rochelle asked pointedly.

"Okay." Nick, Coach, and Rochelle all looked like they were trying very hard not to roll their eyes. Personally, I was just appreciative of the distraction. I shook my head, got off the floor, dusted myself off, and stuffed my issues deep inside where they belonged. _You might not be as experienced as they are, but you're sure as _hell_ not helping anyone moping around all the time. You need to keep focused._

In the meantime, I tried to inconspicuously hide my injured arm behind my back. There were worse things in the world than an arm injury. I'd live. There was only so much antibiotic and gauze to go around. It needed to be saved for the _real_ injuries. Sure, my cuts _looked_ nasty, but it was mostly just clots of dried blood now. It had mostly stopped bleeding. _You know, this would be a hell of a lot easier if you would have grabbed your jacket earlier._ Terrific. I forgot a means of hiding my open wound_ and_ my backpack full of Oreos. I was a certifiable genius.

Rochelle was evidently completely healed up. She had a huge amount of gauze on her head and a bulge under the red stain on her pant leg. Two bright red boxes lay on the floor. Like I said, there wasn't much to go around. Coach had evidently deemed her concussion-free. She had discarded the empty pistol and selected a machine gun half her size.

I went over to the pile of ammo on the table and rummaged for clips my gun would take. I was a fast learner. Plus, I could recognize the type by matching it to the extra clip in my pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ellis making a beeline for me. He had another first aid kit in his hands. _Shit. So much for deception._

"Here, let me patch you up," he said apologetically. I pulled my arm behind my back again.

"It's fine," I said, swaying a little on my feet. _'Tis but a flesh wound!_ He raised an eyebrow at me. Looking like I was about to pass out obviously wasn't convincing anyone. "Look, there are worse things out there than a cut arm. I'm not about to waste a first aid kit on something I can deal with," I said. Nick rolled his eyes and pushed past me. _I've probably been standing in front of the ammo too long._ "Besides it's not even bleeding any…son of a _bitch!_" I turned around and glared at Nick, who held a now empty adrenaline shot in his hand, which he had just finished stabbing me in the arm with. He just shrugged.

"Couldn't sit around waiting for you idiots to finish up by yourselves. So, there. Problem solved. Let's get the hell out of here," he said.

"Prick," I mumbled, rubbing the back of my arm. I could already feel the effects of the adrenaline running through my body. I thought fleetingly that it probably wasn't the best idea to randomly inject oneself with syringes found in the middle of an apocalypse. Then, all I could think about was _moving_. I couldn't sit still. I removed the bar from the safe room door myself and bolted out in front of everyone. _Hey, I got this!_ I gave the nearest zombie a face full of Magnum, earlier qualms about killing the infected temporarily forgotten.

I stopped for a second, hopping from foot to foot, and waiting for the others to catch up. Then I was moving away again. This time, it wasn't due to my newfound hyperactivity; I was being _dragged_ by something. My arms were pinned to my sides, useless.

"Smoker's got Kate!" someone shouted. I couldn't think. The thing around me was tightening and it hurt and I couldn't _breathe_ and I thought I'd dropped my gun somewhere. I struggled against it to no avail. The last bit of air in my lungs was expelled in a cough when I was engulfed in a sudden cloud of green smoke. I managed to see the thing that was dragging me. It was a demented looking thing with tumors and boils covering most of its face. The worst part was realizing gust what it was dragging me _with_. It had wrapped its giant, thick _tongue_ around me.

I didn't have enough air left to scream.

There was the loud crack of a gunshot and I was released, surrounded by more smoke from the exploding creature. I fell to the ground, trying to gasp in air. Everything was that damned green smoke. I coughed violently, trying to recover enough strength to get back up. Ellis came running from somewhere beyond smoke world, grabbing my hand to help me up.

"Hey, don't worry. We all go down. Lemme just get you up," he said, coughing intermittently. I rested my hand on my thighs, recovering my breath.

"Thanks," I said in a gravelly voice. I sounded like a smoker myself.

The smoke finally cleared. We were standing at the entrance to a theme park, just in front of the turnstiles. I winced; I was lucky I wasn't dragged into one of those things. Coach, Rochelle, and Nick finally joined us. None of them had bothered to pick up my gun. _On the plus side, they didn't leave you to get strangled to death._

"We should check these buildings for supplies," I said as we walked through the turnstiles. "I have a creeping suspicion I might need a _gun_." I darted into the first building, shoving a stray common out of my way in annoyance. I heard the shot as someone else took care of it. _Well, what am I supposed to do? Ninja it to death?_ I grabbed a pistol off the floor, frowning in annoyance when I realized it was a different model than the one I had dropped. For all I knew, the damn thing was a squirt gun. Why the hell were there so many random weapons lying around anyway?

I turned around to leave the building and almost ran straight into Ellis, who I supposed had taken it upon himself to stand watch. I swear he actually _blushed_.

"Sorry," I mumbled incoherently. We headed out of the building and rejoined the rest of the team. Okay, so it was kind of sweet that he was keeping watch while I got a new gun, but it really wasn't helping my "I can take care of myself" image. _You don't see the rest of them running around by themselves, do you? Keep in mind you're the idiot who ran ahead of everyone, lost your Magnum, and almost got strangled to death._ Fine. I'd run ahead like an idiot. But Nick _stabbed_ me with the goddamn adrenaline. I had a reaction to it or something. That was _it._ _Oh, stop arguing with yourself._

We walked aimlessly through the park. There really wasn't an established direction to take now that we'd found the lights. What we saw didn't look promising. It was actually kind of depressing. The rides looked ghoulish in the dark, their emptiness raising goose bumps on my arms. The only signs of life were the zombies…as usual. If we were hoping for rescue, this was the wrong way to go about it.

We were slowly relaxing. There weren't very many zombies hanging around, and the few that were mostly ignored us. I took a few potshots with my pistol and was disappointed by the sound and effect. Compared to my Magnum, it sounded like a stapler.

"Hey! The Midnight Riders!" Coach said, gesturing to a poster with the butt of his gun.

"Never heard of 'em," Nick said dismissively, "They any good?" Ellis snorted.

"Uh, yeah. They're a pretty big deal alright," he said sarcastically. Rochelle and I glanced at each other and shrugged. We had no idea what was going on. Maybe I could understand the enthusiasm if we were talking about, say, AC/DC or something. I'd never even heard of these guys. Nick had rolled his eyes and stopped paying attention. _Come on, Nick. It could be worse. It could have been Miley Cyrus. _That made me shudder. I'd take the apocalypse over…_that_…any day of the week. _Gah. Bad image. Hannah Montana zombie._

"Hell yes!" Coach continued enthusiastically, interrupting my train of thought, "I got _all _their albums, even their new stuff that ain't no good." He paused, lost in thought for a moment. "Best lights show in the business though."

"I heard when they play, you can see the show from _space_," Ellis quipped. I'm sure they could have gone on for hours. However, a sudden, shrill scream reminded everyone we weren't out of the proverbial woods yet. Everyone was silent. We all backed into a tight-knit circle, our arsenal pointing outward. I heard low growling, but couldn't quite pinpoint the direction. It almost sounded like my cat when she was _really_ pissed off.

There was another scream, this one echoing oddly. Two figures leapt toward us, arms outstretched. Nick shot the first one before it could land. It came to a blood-streaked rest at our feet. Of course, the second one headed right for me. There was no chance in _hell_ I would be able to pull off a miracle shot on this one. So, instead of shooting it, I whacked it across the face as it landed on me. We both landed in a pile on the ground, the pouncing thing dazed from my well-timed pistol whip. I cocked the pistol and rested it against the thing's head. I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. Good thing, too. My face got covered in zombie…parts.

I kicked the dead, mostly headless zombie off me and sprang to my feet, wiping aforementioned parts off my face before opening my eyes again. _Alright, apocalypse. Any more surprises up your sleeves? I'm getting thoroughly sick of being attacked by a bunch of mutants._ I rolled my shoulders and turned to the others.

"Shall we?" I said in a poor attempt at acting casual. I still hadn't mastered the ability to sound _completely_ nonchalant after near-death experiences. I expected that would come with time. Of course, it seemed as if _someone _had already mastered that particular skill.

"Can we stop and make some cotton candy? Seriously," Ellis said. _He's like a freaking super ball; he just bounces right back from everything._

"Cotton candy, the wise pharaoh of food, sittin' atop the pyramid, passin' judgment on all the lesser foods," Coach intoned. _Ugh. Stop it! You're making me miss my Oreos!_ I craned my neck and looked into the machine as I walked by. _Hey! There's still stuff in here!_ Sure enough, there was a nice amount of fluff left in the machine, even an untouched bag sitting behind it. I reached out to grab it, wondering at my luck, when a putrid ball of green goo flew out of nowhere, hitting the candy dead center.

I whirled around, thinking I'd once again jinxed myself, and saw quite possibly the ugliest thing I'd ever seen. It looked like it had tried to swallow a grenade. I was so distracted by the nasty-looking thing, I didn't notice the crackling coming from below my feet. There was a nasty burning smell and I saw the candy melt away behind me.

"Oh you have got to be _fucking_ kidding me!" I yelped, jumping out of what was, according to ample evidence, acid zombie spit. The spitting thing…well, I suppose you could say it _grinned_…gruesomely and spat another chunk of green goo at us, producing a much larger puddle this time, and started stumbling away into the distance. I sprang from the second puddle and fired an array of wild shots after it.

"Come back here you little bitch!" I hissed. My shots went wide until I'd emptied the clip. Swearing under my breath, I reloaded my pistol as someone else took it down with a well placed shotgun blast. It landed in a pile of acid, face forward. As I walked past it, I noticed something on its back. The demented thing was wearing a _thong_. For some reason, that was just the icing on the cake. It almost made me want to laugh and hurl at the same time. We continued down the slight incline.

"Holy _shit_ guys!" Ellis yelled. I automatically scanned the area for immediate threats, preparing to shoot the piss out of anything that came within twenty feet of us. Turns out, that was unnecessary. "_Kiddie Land!_" he continued. He was practically bouncing in excitement. "I wanna ride one! Just one! Just lemme ride the Screaming Oak once! Man, when are we ever gonna be here again?"

"He's like a five-year-old with guns. And a comprehensive grasp of every swear word in the English language," Nick muttered to Rochelle. They both rolled their eyes. I noticed Ellis was starting to get ahead of everyone. As I'd learned the hard way, running ahead was just _asking _to get attacked…not like I was that great as far as backup went. _Well, two guns are better than one, right?_

I could kind of understand where he was coming from, anyway. If I had the chance to walk through the theme park of my childhood unsupervised, I would probably be a little excited, zombies or not. Hell, maybe if we could get the rides working, it could be an easy way to move past some of the zombies. I started laughing a little when I thought of the in-ride picture. Ellis glanced at me quizzically. I just shrugged, the smile fading off my face when my overactive imagination made the spitter flash the camera. _Holy barf, Batman_.

Everything was silent for a while. My mind started wandering down its previous pessimistic path again. This time, I couldn't stop thinking about what could have happened to my family. _Face it. You're in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Since your best friend mutated into a clawed demon bitch, you've seen _four_ other uninfected humans. Do the math, you're good at that. Five humans left in Georgia. You can safely assume your family is dead…or worse_. I really needed to stop thinking about that crap. How was moping around over things I couldn't change going to help anyone survive? Nonetheless, I couldn't exactly do it on my own. Every time I tried to distract myself, it always came back to the same point of guilt and worry.

I needed to think about something else…anything else.

"I knew this guy who was trying to set the world record on staying on a Ferris wheel..." Thank God for Ellis. He couldn't seem to let more than a _minute_ of silence pass. "He'd been up there for like, two days or something, and he wanted some beer, but they weren't givin' him any," he continued, "So he got this rope…and don't ask me where he got the rope from…"

"Ellis? Is now the best time?" Nick interrupted pointedly.

"Okay."

I flashed Nick a dirty look. He shrugged and mouthed, "What?" _Damn you Nick! You ever heard of letting the little things go? We're not even walking _near _you! Oh, fuck it. There aren't any zombies around. I don't need some asshole in a suit screwing up my chances for sanity!_

"Don't mind him. It's obvious he's an asshole," I stage-whispered. Ellis grinned. I paused for a moment. "That guy ever get his beer?"

*/*/*/*

We were standing in front of a caged off carousel when I heard something…gag? _Oh, terrific. _Now_ what?_ Nick must have caught the look on my face.

"You hear that boomer? Don't let him spew on you," he said matter-of-factly, smirking at me.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," I said incredulously. Coach walked over to a switch perched innocently on the wall next to the gate.

"Alright, this is gonna open the gate and what the hell else?" Coach said.

"You know what? I think it's going to activate everything else around here," Nick responded scathingly. _More than likely._

A fat zombie waddled out of the shadows. _Oh, great, the barfing thing. _Just_ what I need right now!_

"Shit! Boomer!" I yelled. We all turned around just in time to get covered in, you guessed it, zombie barf. As if that wasn't enough, Coach or somebody must have stumbled into the switch. The carousel started playing jaunty music, over which the collective roar of a horde could be heard. All of us added a chorus of curses to the din.

"Oh God, eugh!"

"God_damn_ it!"

"Aw hell! This stuff _sucks!_"

"What the f…!"

"Oh te-fucking-rific!"

I managed to keep my head. I knew there was no way I could shoot covered in barf. At least, there was no way I could shoot that wouldn't end up hitting someone on my team. I tried to beat back the horde with my pistol as best I could, my vision slowly clearing. I wiped the last bit of goo from my face with my right hand and smacked the boomer in the throat with my gun, causing him to stumble back into the horde.

"Back up! Back up!" someone shouted. We all plastered ourselves against the back wall and a shot from Nick's rifle quickly silenced the boomer. It exploded over nearby members of the horde, which, for some reason, caused them to start attacking _each other_. Oh well. There really wasn't any time to analyze the weird behavior of zombies.

"Through the carousel! Go! Go! Go!" Rochelle yelled, darting into the caged area. The zombies had evidently stopped beating the shit out of one another and had resumed their attempts to kill us. They were pouring in through both sides of the cage. Hell, they were even crawling _on top of_ the wire above us, gnawing on the strands desperately. _Oh, we are so completely and totally fucked._

A new, annoying beeping noise was added to the inappropriately upbeat carousel music. I glanced over my shoulder to see Nick holding something.

"_Everyone get down!_" he shouted. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but figured it was best to leave this kind of crap to the veterans of the group. I fell flat on my face obediently.

"Chase this, you zombie bastards!" Nick yelled. I saw the red blinking light on the thing as it arced out the exit of the cage. Every zombie started running toward the blinking light and incessant noise. I rolled to the wall and gripped the cage for dear life, trying to avoid getting trampled to death. The beeping increased in frequency, finally exploding in a fiery crescendo. It was raining blood. It was _literally_ raining blood.

Rochelle and Nick were the first to get up, running ahead to turn off the carousel. I got up painfully, gingerly testing my limbs. _Nothing's broken, anyway_. I absently noticed the music finally shutting off. Ellis, Coach, and I joined Rochelle and Nick by the stairs just past the carousel. There was a giant, gaudy heart in our path, which apparently contained our next rest stop.

"Come on, get into the Tunnel of Love," Coach said.

"Tunnel of Love! Jesus Christ!" Nick complained. We all darted into the room for a few minutes' respite.


	4. Funhouse

"_This used to be a funhouse, but now it's full of evil clowns!"_

I was really starting to love the sound of the safe room door being barred. It meant security, if only for a few moments. I wondered absently whether the door would hold up against the more massive monsters. _You know what? Don't start thinking that. Next thing you know, one of the bastards _will_ break through, just to spite you._

I discreetly checked the damage on my arm, which, in addition to being covered in my own dried blood, was now soaked in zombie blood and God knows what else. Luckily, everyone else looked like that. Disgusting as it was, it was almost convenient. I looked just as bad as everyone else, so they really had no reason to suspect me. And fighting for one's life tends to make short term memory irrelevant. I just needed to act natural. I transferred my pistol to my numb right hand and fished through the pile of ammo for new clips. Fuck_, that stings!_ My arm was throbbing painfully, but I knew I couldn't let it show. _Suck it up._ I bit my lip to suppress a hiss.

Soon, too soon for my taste, Coach opened the door and stepped into the tunnel of love. _Um…this is new. Aren't we supposed to be in a mall or a cornfield or something? Come on, apocalypse, you're losing your touch on clichés. You realize you're not _supposed _to be original, right?_

"Well, looks like we're going into the tunnel of love, people," Coach announced. _No shit, Sherlock._ "Stay close to me." Nick coughed.

"I think I'd like to clarify what constitutes 'close.'"

The tunnel of love was absolutely disgusting. The little water left was a chalky yellowish color, strewn with empty paper cups, miscellaneous wrappers, and the occasional swan boat. The mood lighting wasn't really doing anything for me either. Being unable to see made killing zombies that much more difficult. On top of all that, from the newly wet feeling on my arm, I was sure my cuts were bleeding again. _Fantastic._

We ducked behind various cardboard cutouts to search for supplies. My stomach, continuing to curse the earlier spitter, was really hoping we'd find something edible. No such luck. _Why the hell would there be food in the middle of the tunnel of love anyway? Stop fooling yourself._

Instead of finding food, we found some sort of vent. We crawled into the vent, the argument being that most of the zombies tended to group together. No room to group equaled no zombies…theoretically.

"One thing video games have taught me, good shit always comes in vents," Ellis whispered. I stifled an unexpected laugh.

"Let me know if you see an extra life sitting around somewhere," I replied.

I heard it before everyone else. Right before we left the vent, a haunting sobbing began. The cuts on my arm throbbed in response. In my mind, I was back in Amy's house in Savannah getting slashed as soon as I approached my mutated friend.

Everyone froze in their tracks. From the looks on their faces, I could tell they knew this sound was a threat. I peeked around from the back of the group and saw the crying, dagger-fingered zombie slowly wandering toward the vent. My mind raced. There was absolutely no way we would be able to go around her. It was impossible to retreat without pissing her off. I had only moments to think.

"They only attack the one that pisses them off, right?" I whispered frantically. The others nodded quickly, raising their guns in defense. I took a deep, slow breath and carefully aimed my pistol between the rows of survivors in front of me.

"_What the hell are you doing?_" Nick hissed. I cocked the pistol.

"Please don't shoot me," I whispered. I shot directly at the zombie, turning and speeding backwards through the vent as soon as it went off. I could hear her screams of rage as she chased after me, accompanied by a cacophony of gunshots. I didn't look back. I couldn't afford to.

I could practically feel her breath on my neck. My heart beat out a staccato rhythm in my chest, urging me to survive. I wasn't a very coordinated runner to begin with, and the filthy floor wasn't exactly the best source of necessary friction. The inevitable happened. I slipped on a pile of wrappers and fell flat on my face, cracking my jaw against the unforgiving concrete. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

The demon-zombie wasn't able to stop in time. Having been right behind me, it took her a few strides to stop, skidding along the floor and my back while doing so. By that point, some of my team had caught up, guns blazing. She turned, claws outstretched, red eyes glaring, an expression of pure fury filling her face. She had just enough time to lunge once more before she fell, hitting the ground a foot from my head.

I slowly started getting to my feet, mentally cataloguing the damage from this particular encounter. It didn't seem too bad. I would probably have a helluva bruise on my chin, and I'd bitten the inside of my lip hard enough to draw blood, but that was about it. I was pretty sure I would live. Ellis grabbed my hand (thankfully the left) and pulled me the rest of the way up.

"What in the _fuck_ were you thinking?" Nick growled, "You _shot_ a _fucking_ witch!" I turned around and half-smiled.

"I got rid of her," I said, shrugging. There really wasn't time to sit here _explaining_ what I'd done. It all made sense, really. I had been in the back of the group, so I had the easiest escape route. I easily had the crappiest weapon, so if someone else had startled her, I wouldn't have been much use in killing her. Not to mention I wasn't terribly proficient at hitting specific moving targets. I was the weakest team member; I had the least expertise with firearms and, from what I could tell, the most incapacitating injury. If I died, it really wouldn't be that big of a loss. On top of all that, the witch apparently only attacks the one who startles her. In that small of an area, one of us was bound to do it.

So I chose me.

Ingenious, right?

Of course, I'd be singing a different song if the bitch had actually managed to get her claws into me…probably one with a lot of harps, trumpets, and an angelic choir. Nick rolled his eyes and went back toward the vent. The others all looked like they were recovering from minor heart attacks…not that I could blame them.

We made it through the vent uneventfully this time around. We emerged in some kind of storage room. And what storage room in the middle of a tunnel of love would be complete without submachine guns and incendiary ammunition on the shelves?

I poked around the rest of the room while the others loaded fire bullets. I couldn't use them with a pistol to begin with. Even if I had something else, me plus fire bullets equals someone's ass on fire. I found a jar of some kind of fluorescent green crap on the floor and picked it up. _Well, the biohazard symbol looks promising._ I came back into the main storage room, still trying to figure out what I was holding.

"This anything useful?" I asked.

"As long as you don't dump it on one of us…" Nick trailed off.

"What the hell is it?"

"In a nutshell, you're holding a jar of puke," Rochelle clarified. I almost dropped the jar right then, but figured exploding a bunch of zombie puke all over the floor probably wasn't the best idea. _Remember the boomer?_ Ah. Evidently, zombies liked to attack whatever was covered in boomer puke. _Okay, that's beyond fucked up_. _I'm fairly confident I wouldn't be interested in touching, let alone _eating _something covered in someone else's vomit._

We went up a short flight of stairs into the next room, which had a huge hole in the middle of the floor. Peering down, I could see a few dozen zombies milling aimlessly around. As soon as they caught wind of us, their heads shot up, milky white eyes staring directly at us. _Well, I wasn't planning on carrying this much longer anyway_._ With my luck, I'll end up splattering it all over everyone and getting us killed._

"Throwing puke!" I announced. The others gave me a wide berth, taking down the stray zombies climbing through the floor. I raised the jar high above my head and hurled it directly into the hole. The glass broke on impact, enveloping the zombies in a sickly green cloud. All of them gathered at the site of the bomb drop, biting and scratching one another mercilessly. The zombies not killed by the horde were easy targets, staying just in range through their apparent attraction to boomer bile.

Finally, the green mist dissipated, leaving a clear path. Theoretically. In elementary school, this issue would be solved by the good old "nose game" standby. Essentially, when there was some task no one in a given group wanted to do, one person would say "nose game." The last person to touch their nose was assigned the task. I had a feeling shouting "nose game" in order to determine who goes down a possibly zombie-infested hole in the middle of the apocalypse wasn't considered kosher.

"We're all going down at once," Coach declared. I gripped the lip of the hole and lowered myself clumsily into the nearby swan boat. I grimaced and hissed. _Imagine that. Hanging from the ceiling is bad for arm cuts._ Everyone else joined me moments later. I craned my neck to look at the ceiling. It was really a wonder none of us had broken anything.

"I don't remember the tunnel of love bein' this long!" Coach commented, "I musta had somethin' else on my mind." _Gee, thanks for that image, Coach!_ Nick scoffed.

"Bringing back any memories, Coach? You, a cheeseburger, romance in the air…"

"How many tunnel of love memories _you _got, Nick?"

"Pfft. Huh. Several. Easily."

I tuned them out as best I could, lest they get into more detail regarding Nick's ventures into various tunnels of love. Barf.

"I ever tell you about the time my buddy Keith drowned in the Tunnel of Love?" Ellis started. _Aha! Saved by the bell!_ "You wouldn't think it could happen 'cause the water's so shallow, but that's how it gets you, man. _Overconfidence_." I couldn't manage to suppress a snort. I was having a SpongeBob flashback that seemed oddly appropriate. _You aren't really a lifeguard are you?_ "Keith was with his lady at the time, and he was yellin' for her to save him, but she didn't want to get wet."

"We don't got time for this, Ellis," Coach said.

"Okay." I rolled my eyes.

"Fuck it," I whispered to Ellis, "We had plenty of time when they were discussing their trips down the 'tunnel of love'," I made air quotes as best as I could holding a pistol. He chuckled under his breath at the obvious euphemism, "Now, just how does one drown in two feet of water?"

"Well, truth be told, Keith wasn't exactly _sober _at the time…"

*/*/*/*/*

We finally made it out of the goddamn tunnel of love. There was a very convenient hole in the wall, leading out of the cheesy nightmare. We hadn't seen much action since the bile-bomb horde. So, having learned my lesson, I refused to relax. Instead, I tensed, expecting a horde or some sort of mutant to pop around every corner.

I heard a weird…honking noise outside the small building we were standing in. _What the hell? Are we going to be attacked by the swan boats now?_ I peeked around the corner, pistol first. _Holy shit, clown!_

I instinctively whacked the clown across the face with my pistol, resulting in an oddly satisfying honking noise. The zombie clown stumbled back a few steps, giving me enough time to plug a round into his face. _You know, oddly enough, the exploded version of his face is infinitely less gory and terrifying than the intact one_. Ellis peered over my shoulder.

"Clowns? Clowns. Oh, you have got to be kidding me," he complained. I flashed him a grin.

"Ten points if you manage to honk their nose before you take 'em out," I declared. He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

"You're on!" he agreed enthusiastically. Nick, Rochelle, and Coach emerged from the building. Nick rolled his eyes at us. _You know, Nick, if you keep it up, they'll stick that way_.

"You two are a couple of ass hats," he muttered, pushing past us. Coach took the lead, walking around a chain link fence surrounding an old fashioned wooden roller coaster. We clambered over a downed portion of the fence.

Once again, it appeared there was no way to get around this obstacle but to make a loud noise to open something, thus enraging several bloodthirsty zombies. _Um…that roller coaster's kind of high. Has anyone else noticed that? Fuck my life_. Nick groaned, vocally expressing my frustration.

"No…don't say it…" he complained.

"Looks like we have to run the coaster," Coach announced. Ellis was _literally _bouncing. I had a hard time keeping a straight face, despite the fact I was about to throw up in fear. Ellis stopped bouncing for half a second.

"Okay, come on, how cool is this?" he insisted. I laughed nervously. I wasn't exactly thrilled to be running around on top of a running roller coaster.

Coach flipped the switch and turned on the ride. Of course, in addition to the whoosh of the roller coaster zipping past and the creak of the gates opening, there just _had _to be an alarm to go with it. The horde obviously heard their queue; they started up a distant roar in answer. Ellis and I were the last to get on the tracks.

"Chk…chk…chk…chk…" Ellis said under his breath. I laughed somewhat hysterically as I ran up the first hill. _Now is definitely not the time to trip, darling._ I heard the horde breathing down our necks. Ellis and I turned around and fired endlessly into the group chasing us. I whacked a clown across the face to give myself space to reload.

"Twenty!" I shouted, shoving the clown off the tracks. I could already see the others topping the next hill. _Shit_.

"Move! Move!" I yelled, turning tail and hauling some ass. My legs were burning, but I knew I couldn't stop.

We reached the top of one of the largest drops on the coaster, sans safety rails by now of course, when I heard the bellow of a charger. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ I moved to the left side of the tracks, pistol at the ready. Ellis was positioned on the opposite side. It finally came toward us, running easily up the steep incline. We both shot frantically at the one-armed monster. _Don't let it get us. Don't let it get us. _

"_Fucking die you bastard_!" I screamed as it advanced. It was almost upon us. It changed direction at the last moment, favoring my side. I screamed incoherently and emptied the rest of my clip into its head. The charger buckled and I felt half a moment of relief. Then I realized it was still _moving_. Its momentum was carrying it off the edge.

And I was standing in its way.

I didn't have enough time to move. The charger's massive body swept my legs out from under me._ This is _not _how this is going to end! It can't be!_ There was no way I could possibly survive a drop from this height. Even if I did, I would break something I would need and be too far back for the others to rescue in time. The best I could hope for was instant death. The alternative was being ripped apart by waiting zombies. In other words, I was royally fucked.

But I didn't hit the ground. Ellis grabbed my right hand; the force felt as if it would pull my arm from its socket. I felt something warm trickle down my arm. _Fuck_. My cuts had _definitely_ reopened with a vengeance. My heart pounded in my ears. I was getting extremely close to panicking. Only sheer will was keeping me from screaming or passing out.

"Look at me," Ellis said as he pulled me up, "You're gonna be okay," he said reassuringly. My feet finally felt solid ground again, although it felt as if they couldn't support my weight. I was shaking like a leaf, but trying not to show it. _Ugh. Why won't the ground stop moving? _Somewhere in the back of my mind, I noted the sound of the alarm had ceased. I took a trembling step and almost fell head over heels down the tracks. Ellis caught me before I could, and immediately picked me up.

"…'m okay…" I mumbled in irrelevant protest.

"Yeah…no," he said, shifting me to a more comfortable position.

"…'m _fine _damn it…"

He just laughed at me, shaking his head. I suppose the blood trickling down my arm was dissuading him somewhat. If I was going to be honest, he was right. I was in _no _state to be walking around right now. Hell, I hadn't been a couple hours ago. Who was I kidding? I wasn't built for this kind of shit. A couple of stray tears managed to escape my hold, but I was confident they could be easily mistaken for sweat.

He jogged the rest of the way around the tracks like that. I slowly reloaded my pistol in an attempt to be useful. There weren't many zombies around anymore anyway. They had likely lost interest once the alarm stopped blaring. Ellis gamely tried to keep me distracted,

"I ever tell you about the time me and Keith snuck paintball guns onto a roller coaster?" I laughed softly at the idea, shaking my head, and settled in to listen.

We were at the last bend in the tracks. "Ellis," I tried to put some strength in my voice, "I can walk now. I don't want the others to…" I trailed off. He ignored me until we got to flat ground. I couldn't blame him for waiting. I had been known to trip _up_ stairs. He placed me on my feet and I shook my head violently, trying to keep myself from passing out. I managed to make it the rest of the way to the safe house on my own, although Ellis was standing directly behind me, spotting my walking. He was trying his best to be subtle about it, but that wasn't exactly easy. I felt like a goddamn toddler all over again. I stumbled through the door drunkenly, trying vainly to stay still. I heard the door close behind me.

"You look like shit," Nick commented. _I _feel _like shit…fuck this apocalypse!_ I leaned against one of the rails in the room and tried my best to get my shit together and stay conscious.


	5. Kick in the Teeth

"_What doesn't kill me will only make me stronger in my head."_

I probably looked like a wreck. Rivulets of blood ran lazily down my arm. I was gripping the bar behind me for dear life and breathing like I'd just run a marathon. My legs were shaking, just visibly. Black spots danced across my vision.

_I just need a minute. I can do this. I'll be fine. I just need to…suck it up…_

Once again, I found I wasn't moving of my own volition. Ellis grabbed me by the waist and set me on one of the garbage cans in the corner. He unstrapped the first aid kit from his back and started opening it.

"Hey!" I protested, "I'm _fine_. Save it for someone who needs it!" I tried my best glare on him. He didn't even pause, just chuckled a little at my expression.

"_You _need it," he said, pointedly looking at the mess on my arm, "And I ain't askin'." I tried to say something else, but I really didn't have the energy. He started cleaning the cuts with rubbing alcohol. _Son of a bitch! That fucking _burns_!_ I couldn't help letting out a sharp hiss.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said apologetically. Nick was watching, smirking the whole time. "Oh, go fuck yourself, Nick!" I hissed acidly. The burning finally stopped. I risked a look down.

My arm looked fucking _awful_. The angry red scratches stood out on the pale skin of my arm, a little blood still running. I wasn't a doctor by any means, but in my uninformed opinion, they looked pretty damn deep. Of course, there were worse things to worry about; namely the fact that Ellis was holding a giant ass needle and thread. _You have got to be shitting me. That's _just _what I need right now._ I yanked my arm against my chest.

"Don't tell me you're going to stick that in me!" I exclaimed. Ellis half smiled.

"Uh…no, actually," he said. _Phew. Close call._ "I don't know shit about stitches," he continued, glancing behind him.

Nick.

I glared coldly. "No," I said simply. Nick seemed to be enjoying himself inordinately.

"Well, as long as you don't mind the shit on your arm reopening every time you move, I could really give a shit less," he said casually. _Fuck. He has a point. Damn you Amy!_ I gripped the edge of my perch with my left hand, laying my injured arm on my lap.

"Fine," I said forcefully, "Let's get this over with." _Come on, be a big girl. You're twenty-one years old, you can deal with this. Just don't look, and you'll be fine._ I clenched my eyes shut as Nick prepared the needle. I had to concentrate very hard on not moving. It would just make things worse to have a spasm with a giant needle in my skin.

Of course, practical thinking and action are two completely different things. As soon as I felt the needle pierce my skin, my arm twitched.

"You mind holding the fuck still?" Nick asked sarcastically.

"You're not the one getting stabbed in the arm!" I growled. With some effort, I unclenched my left hand from its death grip and firmly pinned my right in place. Both were shaking a little. Excuse_ me. I discovered we were in the middle of the goddamn apocalypse mere hours ago, my arm's ripped open, and I almost fell off a roller coaster to my death. You can hardly blame me for being a _little_ out of sorts at the moment._

Nick rolled his eyes and repositioned the needle. I bit the inside of my cheek and focused on some graffiti on the opposite wall. This time I managed to hold myself still.

"Do you even know what the hell you're doing?" I asked through gritted teeth. Nick didn't bother looking up.

"Don't have much of a choice, do you?" he asked. I let out a frustrated sigh. None of this was helping. One arm was protesting vehemently every time I felt the tug of the stitches in progress. The other was starting to cramp up. I was worried if I let up an inch, I'd just end up with a score of puncture wounds to match my witch cuts. I tried to ignore both sensations as best I could. I compiled a list of songs with the best use of the semi-word "na", but stopped when that brought back painful memories. I listed off all the trigonometric identities I could remember instead. It was much more impersonal and caused a lot less emotional turmoil.

After what felt like hours later, Nick finally finished stitching my arm together. I chanced a look. I felt a little sick seeing the bloody little x's crisscrossing on my arm. _Yup, the cure is definitely worse than the disease. _Well, at least I didn't feel like I was about to pass out…as much. I grabbed the gauze out of the first aid kit before Nick could reach it, making a point of trying to wrap myself up. He shrugged and moved to the other side of the safe room.

Using your non-dominant hand to wrap gauze around your arm is actually quite difficult to do effectively. The damn thing kept coming undone. I exhaled in frustration and started to get down from my perch. Instead, I found the gauze out of my hands and my butt still firmly parked on top of the trash can. Ellis had stolen the gauze and was blocking my exit. He grinned at me and gently grabbed my injured arm.

"Here, let me help ya. That's what friends are for," he said as he expertly wrapped my arm. _Friends? _I tried to start a few dozen sentences, but settled for,

"Uh…thank you."

"No problem," he said cheerfully. He lifted me off the trash can and set me on the floor. _Why does everyone seem to think I'm incapable of walking?_ We all gathered together, presumably to figure out our next plan of attack.

"So…can we get going?" Rochelle began.

"That was _too _close…" Nick commented, eyes glancing past my newly burrito-ed arm. My eyes narrowed in return.

"Couldn't hurt to rest up for a while," Coach agreed. I groaned, frustrated.

"I'm _fine_ now!" I exclaimed. Everyone else seemed to disagree with me.

"I don't mean to be pickin' on ya, but ya'll look like _shit_," Coach said. I folded my arms, trying and failing to suppress a wince. _Way to prove their point for them, jackass._

"That settles it," Coach declared, "We're gonna rest up for a few hours. I'll take the first watch." He walked to the other safe room door, leaning against one of the railings and staring out the barred window. The rest of the team settled in on the floor near the exit. I stood in the middle of the room awkwardly for a moment before choosing a spot close to the opposite wall. I made myself as comfortable as possible and felt my eyes close of their own accord. Maybe they were right. I was exhausted. I wasn't of any use to them right now.

Of course, my unwanted companion, insomnia, was still there. Having been through hell that day, the situation hadn't exactly improved any. Panicked thoughts raced through my mind at an untamed clip. There was too much to wrap my head around.

There was a virus that caused people to mutate into inhuman zombies.

My best friend had turned into a clawed mutant and attacked me.

I had killed several infected, which I couldn't entirely separate from humans.

I had almost died, several times.

Everyone I had known before today was dead or worse.

Faces flashed behind my eyes at the speed of light. I saw my own face, grimly smiling as I mowed down a horde or watched the effects of a pipe bomb with insane satisfaction. I saw the rabid faces of the zombies I had cut down, milky eyes still furious as they fell. I saw the still faces of my family, empty eyes staring disturbingly. Worse still, I saw their faces changing from their normal, familiar shapes into pale shadows of their former selves, lusting after my blood.

I angrily wiped the tears away. I couldn't afford to be any weaker. If I couldn't be as physically strong as the others, I would have to make up for it emotionally. I slowed my breathing, hoping I hadn't been noticed. I gingerly held my bandaged arm up to my eyes, soaking up every drop of unwanted moisture. I mentally shoved all my problems back in their dark corner. I would deal with them when I had time, when I wasn't in the middle of a fight for my life.

I suppose I slept, after a fashion. Every time my eyes closed, one of my close calls would replay. Except, my shell-shocked mind felt it was necessary to add a new ending each time. After every occasion, I would wake up in a cold sweat. _Whoever said you can't die in your dreams without dying in real life is a moron. _I absently hoped I wasn't making too much noise with my…episodes. I just lay there for the most part. The sensation of falling off the roller coaster, hitting the ground this time around, lingered after the dream. I lay in a state somewhere between nightmare and living nightmare.

*/*/*/*/*

Something touched my shoulder and I jumped about half a mile, running my arm into the wall.

"_Fuck_," I hissed. I blinked my eyes open rapidly. Ellis was kneeling next to me. "'s time to leave already?" I muttered. He nodded.

"Gotta get movin'. Coach heard a helicopter a minute ago."

I jumped up as quickly as I could, ignoring Ellis' proffered hand and earning a foot-stumbling head rush. _Rescue! Well, at least there was the distinct possibility of rescue. You can't slow them down anymore! Snap out of it and man up! _I shook my head rapidly and rolled my shoulders. My arm was throbbing like a son of a bitch, but I actually felt somewhat refreshed.

Ellis tossed me a bottle of pills. I checked the label before popping two in my mouth and swallowing them dry. I didn't think taking something that would knock me out cold would be the best idea right now.

The rest of the team was rummaging through the safe room for weapons and ammo. I picked up my old pistol and loaded a new clip with a click. I noticed an identical pistol on the floor that everyone else was completely disregarding. I picked it up in my right hand, testing the weight with some satisfaction. I grabbed some extra clips for both pistols and practiced reloading them. I was somewhat impressed I managed to do it without dropping one.

"Alright," I whispered to myself, "Lock and load!" I moved toward the exit, a slight smile of satisfaction on my face. Everyone moved into what was becoming our usual formation. Coach stood in front, Nick and Rochelle behind him, me and Ellis in the back.

"Alright everyone, follow me, I've got a plan," Coach said, heading outside. _Care to clarify on that plan, Coach?_ I shrugged and followed everyone out the door, newly acquired dual pistols at the ready.

We moved through a densely packed area of assorted carnival games. One of them kept tauntingly shouting, "_Moustachio! Haha!_" at a volume likely audible across the entire damn theme park. I was sorely tempted to put the thing out of its misery, but I assumed it would be more trouble than it was worth.

"I ever tell you about the time my buddy Keith fell out the roller coaster?" Ellis began, breaking the silence. I could swear the others started walking faster.

"Seriously?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, he didn't drop far, mind you, just onto the tracks, but the carnival people wouldn't stop the ride 'cause all the other people paid good money and Keith snuck on for free, so he had to dodge for like twenty minutes or so."

I laughed out loud, earning weird looks from Nick and Rochelle ahead of us. I didn't entirely buy that people were letting a person dodge a roller coaster going upwards of seventy miles per hour for twenty minutes. But it did put an interesting image in my head. _Damn. If half the shit Ellis says about him is true, Keith must be a fully fledged ninja. _I had a half smile on my face all the way through the bumper cars.

I looked off to the side and saw a random bright red guitar sitting on the floor of the bumper car ride. I stuffed my pistols in my jeans pockets for a moment and picked it up curiously. _Now why in the hell would someone leave a perfectly good guitar sitting out in the open? And who in the fuck is Dusty?_ While I was thinking about that, a stray zombie came running up to try and eat me, shrieking his head off all the way. _Okay. This experience is becoming far too commonplace for my taste._ I didn't have time to reach for my pistols, so I whacked the zombie across the face with my newly acquired guitar, making a satisfying _twang_. Everyone paused.

"Huh. Decapitating a zombie with an electric guitar. I guess I can cross that one off my bucket list," I said casually. Ellis laughed, looking at the newly bloodied guitar longingly.

"You know what? Merry Christmas," I said, handing him the guitar. _Meh. Damn thing was a bit heavy for me anyway._ His face lit up.

"Oh yeah! Gonna beat me a zombie till there ain't a chunk big enough to hit!" he proclaimed, holding the guitar like a baseball bat. Pre-apocalypse, I might have been somewhat disturbed by the gruesomeness of that statement. Now, I merely pulled my pistols from my pockets and laughed under my breath. _Nut up or shut up!_

We entered the barns moments later. The stench was absolutely awful. Let me rephrase that. The smell was even worse than expected. I owed that to the rotting cow carcasses scattered around the pens. _Move along, now. It's not like you've never seen rotting corpses before._ It was oddly silent. Most of the zombies gathered here were already dead and we easily picked off the rest.

Ellis and I were assigned to climb into a loft to search for supplies. We were down to a couple dozen assorted pain pills, an adrenaline shot, and one first aid kit. _Honestly, shouldn't we be more concerned about getting _rescued_?_ We reached the top of the loft and, surprise, surprise, didn't find shit. We were about to climb down when something made an odd squealing noise. _Is it too much to ask for that to be a pig?_ Everyone froze, weapons at the ready.

Something appeared from the next room. It looked a lot like the boil covered creature we had encountered by the carousel. _Boomer!_ It was difficult to tell, boomers are somewhat androgynous, but this one appeared to be female. It grimaced at the group on the floor of the barn and let off another disconcerting squeal.

"Look out! Boomer!" I shouted. Coach, Rochelle, and Nick wheeled around to face the gruesome zombie. One of them instinctively shot it, reducing the boomer to a pair of legs and a dense cloud of red mist. Unfortunately for those on the ground, the boomer had been approximately four feet away from them when it exploded. All three were covered in the cloud. The roar of a horde echoed threateningly. Ellis swore and slid down the ladder. Against all my instincts of self preservation, I joined my team on the ground.

"Get to the wall!" Coach shouted. We obediently backed into the wall, preparing ourselves for the onslaught of zombies that would inevitably come. Ellis and I knelt in front of the rest of the team. I theorized it would allow those behind us to shoot the horde without blowing our heads off. I held my pistols at the ready, a dark smile on my lips.

As the horde came pouring through the barn doors, I felt something close to…anticipation._ Ah, what the hell. I'm nuts already, I might as well enjoy it._ I blasted away, the smile still plastered on my face. It was pretty much a free shooting range. The zombies almost completely ignored me and Ellis, because we were not covered in apparently tasty bile, and made complete asses of themselves trying to get to Rochelle, Nick, and Coach. Taking them down was almost too easy.

The horde was finally decimated. I stood up, sarcastically blowing on the barrel of one of my pistols. _Ah, what the hell? It's a zombie apocalypse. You might as well embrace the clichés._

"Damn it!" Rochelle swore, wiping a rather thick chunk of bile off her shirt, "I just washed this!"

*/*/*/*/*

We climbed across the roof of the barn to get to…the stadium. _I sure as hell hope you know what you're doing, Coach._

"We need to get those gates open!" Rochelle said, sounding frustrated. I could definitely understand where she was coming from. Every single time, with no exceptions, trying to open some sort of huge barrier like this called a horde, which resulted in another near-death experience. I half hoped we could simply climb over the gate, avoiding the innocent looking switch off to the side completely. No such luck. They weren't too tall to climb over exactly, but there wasn't enough room to shove a person through up top. _Oh, goody._

"Well, let's get this over with," I sighed, pulling the switch. All manner of noise filled the area. Gears started clicking rapidly. The gates creaked and moaned in protest against being opened. And of course, the zombies screamed a challenge at us, obviously annoyed with the noise. All this, and the damn gate wasn't budging an inch.

"Ah, shit. This ain't gonna be good!" Coach commented. _Well, that's the understatement of the century._ We all moved to the strategic high ground: a nearby scaffolding platform. We crouched on the platform, shooting into the flood of former humanity. A smoker appeared on top of the painstakingly slowly opening gates.

"Smoker!" I shouted, firing at the same time. Its tongue shot out and managed to grab hold of Nick's ankle, pulling him and a large canister of gasoline off the platform into the mass of zombies below. Realizing my pistols were ineffective at my distance, I adjusted my aim, shooting the tongue instead of shooting at the smoker directly. The tongue slackened, releasing Nick. By then, he had been dragged into the center of the clearing.

"_Fire in the hole!_" Coach boomed, releasing a pipe bomb up the stairs. As the zombies chased the pretty blinking light, the rest of us climbed off the platform.

Nick looked a little dazed, but it seemed as if he would live.

"Hell if I'm carrying you! Get up!" Rochelle demanded. She followed that up by stabbing him with the other adrenaline shot, which seemed to get his ass around pretty damn quick. _And that, my friend, would be karma._

The gates finally opened completely, ending their torturous screeching with a resounding bang. It appeared the horde had not been entirely destroyed by the pipe bomb. Those remaining dragged themselves after us. We ran through the gates at a dead sprint. Nick turned around as soon as we got through the gates.

"What in the hell are you doing?" I yelled. His only response was to casually shoot the gas can lying in the middle of the clearing. Flames, fluorescent blue and brilliant orange, leapt up and consumed the entire area. The pursuing horde was ignited, letting out a terrible collective shriek. The few zombies that made it through the inferno seemed uninterested in attacking us. I couldn't blame them. I wouldn't care much about eating once I was on fire. He raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged, continuing down the alley.

"Fair enough!" I called over the noise. We were almost there. I could barely glimpse the bright red door just beyond the bars. Unfortunately, _another _goddamn horde decided it didn't want us to reach it. Hell, even the gas can had finally stopped burning; dozens of zombies heedlessly ran through the last embers of the fire. Now we were surrounded on all sides by either zombies or ten foot walls. To make matters worse, I could have sworn I'd heard the low, threatening growl of a hunter. _Not much you can do about, is there? Shoot the piss out of everything and cross your fingers._

Slowly but surely, we were wading through the horde. We managed to stand our ground, inching forward every time one of the monsters in front of us fell. A warm liquid beaded on my forehead and rolled down my face. To be honest, I couldn't quite tell if it was sweat or blood. An inhuman scream rang out. My blood froze as I saw one of those hooded bastards leaping straight for our group, hands outstretched menacingly. It awkwardly landed on Coach, in an almost jockey-like style, bringing him down to the hard ground. _Damn it. I swear, the safe room is mocking me. I can almost hear it laughing._

"Don't stand there!" he bellowed, "Kill this thing!" Rochelle and I quickly focused our fire on the hunter, killing it before it could do too much damage. We were each rewarded with a back full of assorted scratches, courtesy of the unwavering horde at our backs, for our efforts.

"Oh shit…just get up! Get up!" Rochelle screamed. Each of us grabbed one of Coach's hands and brought him back to his feet. He immediately turned around and beat back a row of zombies with his shotgun.

"They oughta name a school after me for this shit!" he growled, rapidly emptying his clip into the horde. We backed into the building, trying our best to keep the majority of the horde behind us. The last thing we needed was a bunch of zombies in the goddamn safe room.

Nick was the first one in the safe room. He wrenched the door open further, holding it open with his leg while covering the rest of us with his rifle.

"Come on! You don't want to make me come out there for you!" he demanded, sending a round flying through yet another zombie head. The rest of us piled in quickly. As soon as we were all inside we all leaned against the door, ignoring the scratching hands reaching through the barred window. I heard the click of the door sliding into place.

"We've got it! Someone bar the damn thing!" I shouted. Nick swiftly slid the bar into place. We all stepped back from the horde just beyond the door and silently reloaded our weapons. There was a collective click as we aimed. The sound of gunfire filled the small safe room. It was almost relaxing now that they couldn't attack us. It was more like a distant game now. We kept shooting until the dead stopped being replaced by the monsters behind them. An echoing silence ensued as the last zombie fell. Everyone lowered their weapons and I allowed myself a sigh of relief.


	6. Midnight Ride

"_I made a deal with the devil, now he's pulled my number but he'll have to come and get me first!"_

"Alright, here's the plan," Coach started while we loaded up on ammo, "Y'all know the Midnight Riders? They're gonna save us." I barely managed to suppress a snort. Anything involving rescue out of a zombie apocalypse combined with a rock band was downright cartoonish in my book.

"I hate to break it to ya, Coach," Ellis said, rubbing the back of his neck, "but I don't think they're actually here." _And if they were, they wouldn't give two shits about any of us. _Coach shook his head.

"We'll set off the finale and the chopper gotta know something's up. And nobody, and I mean _nobody_ has a bigger light show than the Midnight Riders!" he finished. There was a slight pause as the idea sunk in. _So we turn on all the lights and sound in a ginormous stadium and attract every zombie in the tri-state area? Great plan, Coach._

"So we gotta set up to rock and then fight zombies? This is the best day of my life!" Ellis said enthusiastically. _Um…the best day in your life? Did you neglect to remember we're in the middle of a bunch of mutated zombies and everyone we've ever known is dead or trying to kill us? _If this was the best day in his life, that boy had one selective memory. _Maybe that isn't such a bad thing_. My mind flipped through the mental pictures _I _had retained. Most of them were bloody, gory, and left almost visible scars.

"This is the stupidest plan I've ever agreed with," Nick muttered, bringing me out of my thoughts. _I doubt that._ We got into formation and left the safe room behind. My heart pounded nervously when we stepped into the open. Being away from the barred room behind us felt wrong somehow. _This is not going to be good._

"Man, this is gonna be like the…_fourth_ time the Midnight Riders have saved my life!" Ellis said excitedly. _Come to think of it, I'm not entirely sure he's stopped talking since Coach mentioned the plan._ Ignoring my intuitive fear, my lips quirked upward in a half smile.

"The _fourth_ time?" I asked incredulously.

"Will you stop _encouraging _him?" Nick shot over his shoulder. I rolled my eyes. _Nick, you really need to learn to pick your battles. And since the world is giving us plenty of those already, how about letting the little things go?_

We got into the stadium without too much trouble. _They call this a stadium? I swear, my high school graduation had a bigger building. I suppose as long as there's enough room for the helicopter to land…_We split into two groups to gather supplies. Evidently everyone else had finally figured out more than just the pilot would be attracted to the noise.

It was really kind of odd that there was such a stockpile of supplies here. There were a bunch of Molotov cocktails and pipe bombs sitting in a hurried pile on one shelf, a wide assortment of heavy duty firearms, a stack of unused first aid kits, and scattered boxes of fireworks and cans of gas. _Well, the little skull symbol on the back looks especially promising…_I whistled in amazement.

"Holy shit…" Ellis breathed, eyes widening.

"Poor bastards don't stand a chance!" I exclaimed, shaking my head.

"We're gonna whip the dogshit outta them!" he agreed. _That's the spirit! We are _not _going to die today! We're going to get rescued…and actually eat something…oh, I can't do this. Pessimism is a hard habit to drop, especially when you nearly always end up being right._ With some effort, I pushed that thought back in the burgeoning dark corner all my other problems had been imprisoned in. _Not the time, now. It'll have to wait until after you're rescued…uh, or after you're dead. Either way, you only have to hold off for a few more minutes._ Gee, brain, thank you for _that _bit of optimism.

I decided to concentrate on strategy instead. _Now, where's the best place for a bunch of highly flammable objects? _The lights above the stage came on with a series of small crashes. _Well, I suppose we're defending ourselves from the stage. _I walked up the ramp and stood at the front of the stage. _Hmm…not loving the low ground. I can just see a smoker waiting in the stands. _I walked around the back, noting another two easily accessible entrances to the stage area. _We should probably block that off as best we can. _

I turned around to explain my strategy to Ellis, but he seemed to have disappeared. I automatically thought the worst and hauled my ass across the stage, pistols drawn and loaded. Ellis was standing in front of the microphone, tapping it experimentally. Relieved, I managed to skid to an ungraceful stop. _Sheesh. You scared the _shit _out of me, jackass. _

"Check one…check two…" he said into the microphone. _Well, at least someone's enjoying themselves. _I walked up behind him, intending to ask him to help me spread fireworks and gas cans around the front of the stage. I didn't get a chance to speak a word. Without warning, he grabbed the mike, "_Every lady's crazy when her daddy's not around! Gotta reach for the top, stay on the mountain!_" I was almost motivated to accompany him on air guitar. I couldn't help myself. I laughed. He glanced over his shoulder and grinned.

"Hey ass clowns!" Nick shouted in annoyance. It appeared the others had already started setting up our lovely Wall O' Flaming Death. "Get your asses down here and help!" I shrugged and jumped offstage, landing heavily on my feet. We spread the assorted flammable objects in a semi-circle around the stage. I remembered the stockpile of supplies spread around the stadium.

"We should probably get all the supplies on the stage," I said, gingerly gathering an armful of pipe bombs.

"Princess might have a point," Nick conceded, grabbing several clips of ammo.

"I resent that!" I called after him. _Princess? Seriously? I've bitched about the situation a hell of a lot less than you, asshole. _

We finished setting the supplies on the stage a few minutes later. I ran over to the booth to start the music. Nick took one look at the tape deck and snorted.

"Sorry to break it to you, Coach, but your heroes lip-sync. There's a tape back here labeled 'Finale'," he announced.

"No, they're just saving their voices for the studio, Nick," Coach insisted, "That's _smart_."

I rolled my eyes and smacked the last button to start the finale. Fireworks shot from the front of the stage and loud music flooded out of the speakers. Everyone gathered on the upraised portion of the stage. Rochelle and I knelt at the front of the group. The roar of the horde sent adrenaline pumping into my system.

"We need to crank this shit _up_ baby!" Ellis shouted excitedly. Nick groaned.

"If you have any taste, cover your ears," he said, clearly annoyed.

We started blasting away at the scattered fireworks and gas cans, setting up a veritable wall of fire, the fireworks crackling loudly as they were hit. I could feel the intense heat burning on my face. Zombies flooded the area, heedless of the leaping flames. They yowled and screeched as they burned alive. We were standing on an island in the middle of a literal hell.

I had to admit, the music coming out of the speakers, if not exactly _poetic_, seemed to have the right tone for what we were doing. I found myself shooting in time to the music. I hated to admit it, but it was almost _fun_. I could imagine what I looked like now; blood-soaked, dual pistols blazing away, surrounded by a ring of fire and zombies. Add the adrenaline-pumping music and you had something straight out of an action movie. The heroes' last stand. _Badass._

The distinctive scream of the hunter rang out from the stands, slightly diluted by the heavy music. I could barely make out the shape of the hooded bastard pacing just behind one of the railings. _Unless you are immune to fire, you're not coming anywhere near us, asshole. _Suddenly, it was airborne, flying over the fire with demented clawed hands outstretched threateningly. _No fucking way!_ I shot at it in a panic, hoping desperately to bring it down before it reached us. Of course, seeing as I couldn't seem to hit a moving target to save my life, my efforts were completely futile.

The hunter tackled me to the ground forcefully, pinning my arms under me with its knees. As I fell, I collided with whoever was behind me before cracking the back of my head painfully on the floorboards of the stage.

"_Get this thing off me!_" I screamed. It only got in a couple of swipes before being clocked upside the head with a bloody guitar. I kicked the hunter's corpse off my legs and leapt to my feet as quickly as I could. I felt something damp on my stomach. I was fairly certain I knew what it was. _Just don't look down. Now is not the goddamn time. You'll only slow them down. Point and shoot. Point and shoot. _

"_Smoker!_" Coach shouted, pointing briefly into the stands. The tongue wrapped around his waist as soon as the words left his mouth and tried to drag him offstage.

"_Goddamn it!_" he yelled. Before any of us had our sights on the pungent bastard, Coach grabbed the tongue with his free hand and pulled _hard_. I couldn't help laughing a little. The smoker was yanked over the railing it was standing behind directly into the path of an exploding fireworks box. The tongue's grip slackened and Coach shrugged it off, cocking his shotgun and putting a round in the creature's head. _Double tap!_

The fire finally burnt itself out, allowing hordes of zombies to rush onto the stage. Nick charged forward to hit the button by the microphone, setting off flares of fire on either side of the platform. Before he could get back to the relative safety of the team, a flaming jockey pounced on him, dragging him off the stage, directly through the fireworks. Rochelle moved forward quickly, shooting after the obnoxious little bastard (the jockey, I mean).

"Can just _one _goddamn thing go right?" she swore. She finally managed to kill the jockey, but was swiftly carried off by a charger before she could get to Nick.

"_Shoot it! Shoot it!_" she yelled in a panic as the damn thing started pounding her into the dirt.

I quickly picked up a pipe bomb from our stockpile. _It can't be too complicated. There's only one button, for crying out loud. I swear, if you end up killing yourself with this damn thing…_I pushed the red button and threw it as far away from my fallen teammates as I could.

"Fetch, jackasses!" I called after it. I ran with Coach and Ellis to help Nick and Rochelle up. I emptied my pistols into the charger's back and covered Ellis while he got Rochelle back on her feet. We moved on to cover Coach and Nick as they made their way back to the stage. Nick looked fucking _awful_. He had a couple of long scratches on his forehead from the jockey's grip and a number of angry burns marking his face. Despite all of that, he looked more annoyed than anything.

"Stop being a baby," he muttered to himself, "You've felt worse after a night of drinking."

We made it back to the stage before the horde came back in full. We were practically drowning in a sea of zombies. _Where is the goddamn pilot? _Even considering our considerable stockpile of supplies, I doubted we could last too much longer at this rate. If one of us fell, we would be trampled before someone could get us back on our feet. The pounding music seemed to fade into the background. My pulse pounding in my ears took precedence over it.

I felt the ground shaking underneath me. _Terrific. Fucking hunter did more damage than I thought._ I laughed shakily, hysterically. _I am going to die today. No doubt about that. Nice knowing you guys…_I expected my vision to black out any second. I was half wishing my body would just get it over with. The sooner I passed out, the sooner I would be done with this nightmare.

But, as it turns out, the ground really _was_ shaking.

A chunk of concrete came flying out of nowhere, smashing a huge dent in the stage in front of us. I looked into the stands and froze. Standing at the top of the stadium, arms raised menacingly, was the car-tossing monster from Savannah. It roared and charged down the stands, ripping stray commons out of its way like flies.

"Man up! We got a tank!" Nick shouted. Everyone started concentrating their fire on the tank. _Fuck. I might as well be sneezing at it. _I started up another pipe bomb, chucking it in the general direction of the tank. I didn't have any delusion of actually _hurting _it really. I figured there was a chance the swarm of infected following the light might slow it down and buy us time. I was partially right. The tank at least seemed marginally more annoyed by the deluge of zombies impeding its progress.

Nick took advantage of the break and picked up one of the Molotovs. He lit the bomb and sent it sailing into the crowd around my pipe bomb. The bottle broke directly in the tank's face, causing it to roar in agony. The pipe bomb exploded just behind it, coaxing another roar out of the beast. However, despite its close encounter with a pipe bomb, a hail of bullets, and being on _fire _for crying out loud, it continued toward us.

"Hey, keep shooting, keep shooting!"

"Kill it! Kill it!"

"_Shoot that big mother!_"

The tank was on the stage now. We were forced to back up to avoid it, leaving our convenient high ground. From this distance, I could actually see the pieces of flesh flying off the tank as we tried to bring it down. I desperately tried to aim for its proportionally tiny head, hoping for a lucky shot. It finally swayed on its feet, eyes clouding over. I was rooted to the spot in shock as it fell forward. I would have been crushed if someone hadn't pulled me back. The huge hulk finally crashed to the ground, producing its last earthquake. I half expected it to magically resuscitate itself and try to kill us again. I put another bullet in its head, just in case.

Suddenly, the fireworks started screaming into the air of their own accord, making our previous efforts look like cheap sparklers. I heard the rapid sound of helicopter blades ripping through the air. I almost thought it was wishful thinking on the part of my overactive imagination. But no, there it was, nose pointed toward the stands of the stadium. It landed on the far side, blades still running.

"Coach, you're a genius! It worked!" Nick yelled victoriously. _Slow down there. We still need to _get on _the damn thing. No guarantees, Nick._ Rochelle clicked the last pipe bomb on and threw it down one of the entrance tunnels. I doubted it would buy us enough time. The ground started shaking again. _Yup, we're definitely screwed. Not enough that I have to get ripped apart by zombies, is it? No, I needed to have the delusion of survival first. Fate just wanted to flip me off one more time before I died. What a dick._ Nonetheless, I wasn't going down without a fight. I had gotten too far to give up now.

"Get to the chopper!" Coach shouted. _What do you think I've been trying to do?_ Let me just interject that running backwards across a stage littered with corpses, bombs, and ammo while shooting at a half ton monster hell bent on killing you is _not fucking easy_. I remembered the old joke about being chased by a bear in the woods. _I only have to outrun you._ I definitely was not the fastest, nor the most coordinated runner. And that's when I'm moving _forward_ without _shooting _at anything. Worse, I couldn't manage to reload while I was running. I tried, but only managed to drop the clip in the process.

"_Fuck!_" I screamed, shoving my pistols in my pockets. If I couldn't shoot, I might as well make it easier to run. I started up the stairs, willing myself to move faster. I heard _and _felt something heavy hit the ground behind me. My pulse had blended almost into a continuous beat, no difference between pumping in and out clearly audible. I was running full tilt across one of the benches. Every time I stumbled, I almost let panic consume me. If I really fell, I would die. It was a harsh way of looking at it, but it was the truth. One hit from the beast behind me would be fatal, if not immediately. We didn't exactly have the resources to deal with broken bones or massive internal bleeding. I almost cried in relief when I reached the helicopter. Hands grabbed mine before I could climb in entirely.

"Go! Go! Go!" Coach commanded. The chopper started taking off as I was pulled in. I landed in a heap on the floor, trying to get my breathing under control. The sides of the chopper slid shut as we flew out of the stadium. I pulled myself off the floor and sat down in one of the seats, cautiously sliding the seatbelt in place.

"I can't believe we made it," I gasped out. _That's the nice thing about being a pessimist. You're either always right or pleasantly surprised._ My head rested against the metal wall behind me and I closed my eyes. I allowed my fatigue to consume me and relaxed.


	7. Under the Bridge

"_Take me to the place I love, take me all the way"_

At first I was too keyed up to do much more than stare out the helicopter, watching the ground rapidly disappear beneath us. The solid blanket of darkness that spread out lulled me into a marginally calmer state.

I fell into a light doze, still vaguely aware of my surroundings. The throbbing of my wounds lowered its rhythm, leaving several dull aches around my body. My arm had become numb again, probably as some sort of defense mechanism. I hadn't exactly taken it easy since I had first gotten it patched up. Minor cuts and bruises made their presence known almost vocally. My stomach still felt slightly damp. I vaguely thought I should get that taken care of, but couldn't bring myself to open my eyes, let alone move from my seat. My head drooped to the side inevitably, landing on something warm. The ebb and flow of voices around me faded into the background as I drifted farther away from reality.

"_Hello? Anyone home?" _

_My eyes opened. I was standing in the middle of a department store, an annoyed teenage girl waving her hand in my face. I shook my head rapidly. Shopping wasn't exactly my forte. Let me clarify. Shopping for prom dresses with my sister could be absolutely _painful_. I figured I should probably pay more attention. Spring break was in a week, and this was going to be one of the last opportunities for us to spend some time together before I left. Something twitched in my mind at that thought, but I ignored it. I was never one for superstitions. _

_After all, everyone had gotten all worked up in December for no reason. End of the world. Sure. Absolutely _nothing _happened. The next day, everyone was panicking that they hadn't gotten their Christmas shopping done. I didn't put much stock in that sort of crap. Y2K? Nothing happened. Bird flu? Nada. Swine flu? Mass panic over nothing. I wrenched my attention back to the present with effort._

"_Sorry, what?" I asked stupidly. The girl sighed and held up two long dresses impatiently, thrusting each one practically in my face in turn. I rolled my eyes._

"_Okay, Lizzy. I give up. What the hell is the difference here?" I asked, somewhat annoyed. She scoffed._

"_This one," she said, holding up the dress in her left hand, "is _aqua._" She held up the other dress, "This one is _cyan_." Fuck if I knew. There was no visible difference. Of course, I couldn't say that to her, or I'd get a speech for my efforts. She raised her eyebrows insistently. _Crap. I should probably give her some sort of answer. Um…let's see…

"_I like that one," I said, gesturing toward "aqua". Personally, I was going for alphabetical order. Predictably, she placed the one I'd pointed out back on the rack and darted into the dressing room with "cyan". I couldn't really see what all the fuss was about. Senior prom. Meh. I'd never gone; I didn't think I was any worse for the wear. She stepped out of the dressing room, strutting in her scarily high heels. It vaguely annoyed me that she was taller than me with those damn stilts on. Barely taller, but still. _I'll tell you one thing. You are definitely not going to prom in six inch heels. You'll make your date feel like a goddamn elf._ Lizzy experimentally twirled around, almost falling flat on her ass. She struck a pose and examined her profile in the mirror. I sighed and she turned around abruptly._

"_It looks awful, doesn't it?" she asked. I offered her a half smile._

"_Naw. You two are just growing up too damn fast," I muttered. How was it possible she'd grown up already? Just two years ago, she was still essentially a little kid. And when had Brooke turned eleven on me? That damn kid was in middle school now. By all rights, they should both still be about five years old. I felt a little stupid for getting so sentimental about all this, but it was weird watching them grow up. It hadn't been weird for me to turn twenty-one, but it had disturbed me beyond belief whenever they blew out the candles on their birthdays. _

"_Awwwww…" Lizzy said sarcastically. She came down to my level and wrapped her arms around me in a hug. _

"_Oh, get off me…" I complained half-heartedly. I wasn't much for displaying any emotion in front of, well, anyone. I had no way of knowing how they would take it. Of course, there were always those few people I could trust utterly, all of them permanently linked to me in blood._

_She finally released me and headed back into the dressing room to change. _

"_Did we ever decide on an order?" she called over the door. _

"_An order for what?"_

"_You know, the 'na' list," she clarified. I laughed. _

"_Well, Centerfold has to take gold no matter _what _you put on the list…" I started. _

I suddenly felt like I was falling. I wasn't too concerned at first. It was just a sudden jerk; I assumed it was just me waking up. _Lemme sleep…I think it was a _good_ dream for once…_ But judging by the others' expressions, I was wrong. The helicopter lurched again. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my bleary vision. Just audible with the background noise of the helicopter, I could hear someone coughing. No, coughing was too benign a word. Hacking a lung up would be a little more accurate.

"I'm…fine…" someone said in between hacks. The voice was unfamiliar, but the coughing wasn't. _The pilot! But he was fine when he picked us up! No way it could progress that fast! It's just a cold, that's right…_I knew I was kidding myself before I even finished the thought. It was too obvious, especially now that the coughs were slowly turning into growls. The change was becoming visible now. The pilot's skin turned a chalky gray. His body shook with the force of the transformation, an inhuman scream building in his throat.

Time slowed almost to a standstill as the pilot rose from his seat. The nose of the helicopter dipped forward, like a roller coaster about to drop over its largest hill. Despite the incline, the infected pilot advanced on us, growling a challenge. We were sitting ducks. Almost literally. Everyone was strapped in a row at the back of the helicopter, hardly able to move. _Prioritize, damn it! Do you have a better chance at living if you jump out of a nose-diving helicopter than if you stay put? There's only one, and a common at that! Sit tight, he'll probably get thrown out of the way soon enough._ I scrabbled at my pockets for my pistols, hoping to at least be able to defend myself.

Before I could get one out, a shot rang out loudly. A rapidly spreading red stain appeared on the pilot's chest. I craned my neck to see Nick pointing his own pistol at the infected man. He cocked the gun and shot again, hitting the man's neck this time. The pilot fell with one last angry gurgle. Out of nowhere, time decided to resume its normal pace.

The helicopter spun wildly on its descent, rattling us in our seats. My thoughts fired off rapidly. _Shouldn't there be parachutes or something in here? It doesn't matter. You're too close to the ground for them to do any good. Do you seriously think you'd have enough time to unbuckle yourself, find a parachute, figure out how to put it on, and jump out in time? _My hands dug into the seat in a panic. I clenched my eyes shut and locked my jaw. Screaming wouldn't help. Nothing would.

There was a particularly violent jolt and the back of my head slammed into the cold, hard wall of the helicopter. The spinning, horrific scene around me went blissfully dark.

*/*/*/*/*

The spinning hadn't stopped, but the screaming of the helicopter had. I was still moving, but it felt more like drifting on a choppy ocean than free falling in a doomed helicopter. Hell even, the noise sounded almost like the ocean. I could almost hear the waves. The white noise of it roared in my ears, blurring real sound beyond recognition. From that alone I figured I wasn't actually moving. I couldn't seem to make my eyes open. _When did my eyelids get so heavy? _My breath came in wheezing gasps, the wind knocked out of me. There was more ocean noise and I felt something on my shoulder. _Wait…we're not dead?_ The thought had just registered. _What the hell? _I mumbled something unintelligible in an attempt to respond. Without warning, I fell forward like a puppet with its strings cut. _What the fuck? What happened to the seatbelt? Why am I moving? Something smells funny…_

I was…apparently floating. That was what it felt like anyway. My mind was sort of starting to formulate semi-rational thoughts again. _Um…you hit your head? You're not supposed to fall asleep, right? Oh, fuck if I know. _I struggled to get my eyes open, managing to crack them a little. I couldn't really see anything. All I could make out was darkness. It wasn't much different from having my eyes closed, really. I heard the rumble of a large door closing and suddenly the air got a lot stuffier. I tried to talk again, but only managed a sort of garbled groan. I stopped floating. I was laying down on…a table or something. I finally snapped out of it. Sort of.

I appeared to be making a habit of making an annoyance out of myself. I had been carried _again_. _Seriously, I wouldn't blame them if they just left me here. No one else is having this much trouble staying on their goddamn feet. _I finally managed to open my eyes all the way. The world was tilting crazily. I tried my damndest to figure out which way was up.

"…waking up!" someone said. Ellis's face spun roughly into focus next to me.

"How're you feelin'?" he asked. _Oh, I'm completely fine. I just crashed God knows where in a helicopter and probably have a concussion or something. And the world won't. Stop. Fucking. Moving! Okay, _enough _already! If you won't stop moving on your own, I will fucking _make _you. _

Of course, I didn't actually _say _all that. I wasn't capable of that level of coherent speech at the moment. Besides, who was I to snap at the people who dragged my ass out of a downed helicopter?

"Could be worse," I managed. _That's the spirit! You could be crushed under hundreds of pounds of twisted, flaming metal right now! You could be getting eaten alive by that zombie pilot! _My imagination secured the image in my head to the point where I could almost _feel _the sensations I had brought to mind. _Um…come to think of it, my form of optimism isn't all that helpful…_

I pressed my palms to the table and started pushing myself to a sitting position. One of Ellis's hands came around my back and helped me up. I looked around the room we were in, a boxcar, evidently. I gingerly rubbed the back of my head, wincing at the rapidly forming bump. _Come on. You've definitely had worse. Hell, you've had worse when you were five. Now, how about getting your ass off the table? _I delayed moving for another few seconds; the floor was still tilting a little. I shook my head forcefully, which _really _didn't help matters. _Sure, whip your head around. You only have a lump the size of a goose egg, scratch that, a fucking _ostrich_ egg, on the back of your head, you might have a concussion, and you decide sloshing your brain around is a _good _idea?_ I slid to the edge of the table, letting my legs dangle off. Before my feet could hit the floor, I was fucking _blinded_.

A part of me realized that someone was checking if I had a concussion. However, most of me was fighting a strong urge to slap whoever was shining the flashlight in my eyes. The light was withdrawn and I blinked rapidly to clear the fluorescent greenish purple spots from my vision. I ground my palms into my eyes in annoyance when that didn't work soon enough for my taste.

"So…do I pass?" I asked, my voice much less labored. Coach nodded.

"Should be fine," he said, pocketing the flashlight. I set my feet on the ground, holding onto the table as a backup plan. I stood up straight and felt a sort of painful tugging on my stomach. _Fucking hunter bastard._ A quick glance around the room showed most of the others were already settling down on the floor. From the looks of it, Rochelle was already asleep. I bit the inside of my cheek and walked slowly to a free corner of the boxcar. I could do this by myself. I had both arms now, right? _Oh, for crying out loud. Now is not the time to be worrying about that kind of bullshit. Seriously, you've shown more skin at the _pool_._ Nonetheless, I figured if I _could _do it on my own, I might as well save myself some embarrassment.

I rolled my partially torn top carefully away from my stomach. I breathed a sigh of relief. There were several shallow cuts crisscrossing my skin, but at least they wouldn't need any goddamn _stitches_. My arm throbbed in agreement. I knelt on the floor, reaching for a first aid kit at the same time. A low hiss escaped my clenched teeth as the simple movement wreaked havoc on my latest injuries. _Shut up, genius! I thought you were trying for subtlety?_ I yanked the first aid kit to my corner as quickly as I could. Of course, given my boundless aptitude for hand-eye coordination, the damn thing banged against the wall of the boxcar. I heard some rustling behind me. Someone was getting up. _Ah, shit. Time to move your ass, girl._ I uncapped the disinfectant, my hands hesitating from unpleasant memory. _Just do it! It's like ripping off a Band-Aid. Get it over with._ I clumsily spread the nasty stuff on my wounds. _God_damn _it!_ My teeth ground together. It took everything I had not to react vocally. That shit _burned._

I grabbed the gauze and clumsily started bandaging myself. Scratch that. I _attempted _to patch myself up. I heard footsteps behind me. _Aw, fuck. Please be Rochelle…_Of course it wasn't. Once again, I found the gauze out of my hands. _Would it kill this apocalypse to give me something I could take care of myself? _

"Here, lemme help ya with that," Ellis said, starting to wrap the gauze expertly around my torso. _Good thing he's behind you. You're redder than a tomato right now. _Shut up.

"So…um…what happened?" I stuttered out. _Smooth. I wasn't aware it was possible to blush vocally. _

"Well Nick shot the goddamn pilot," he started, his voice tinged with leftover annoyance.

"I shot a zombie," Nick interjected from behind us, "He was a zombie, Ellis!" _Can't argue with that logic. _

"That's true," Rochelle mumbled, "If I had to pick a low point in the flight, it would probably be when he stopped flying the chopper and attacked us." Even stifled by lack of sleep, the sarcasm in her voice was clear. Truth be told, I _had_ reached for my pistols. If I hadn't been so damn slow, I would have blown that zombie away myself. _Meh. No need to get wrapped up in the middle of all that crap. Oh, by the way, you're all patched up now, jackass. _

I carefully re-covered my stomach, the blush creeping back again. _Oh for crying out loud, get over yourself. _I coughed slightly to try and clear the stutter from my throat. Everyone seemed to have lost interest in filling me in on the finer details of our fiftieth near-death experience, but I wasn't too concerned. I could fill in most of the blanks myself. _And then Kate managed to get another head injury and passed out. Since she was too much of a pussy to walk yet, someone had to carry her out of the helicopter, possibly risking their own lives to do so. When Kate finally woke up, she needed to use one of the few remaining first aid kits. _I was fairly confident I didn't need to hear that coming from anyone else.

"So what's the plan?" I asked, rejoining the rest of the team. The question was punctuated by a light snore. I glanced down. Rochelle had already fallen asleep on the hard floor.

"I don't know about y'all, but I think I've had enough excitement for one day," Coach said tiredly. _Hear, hear!_ Coach took the opportunity to collapse on the floor, throwing an arm over his eyes pointedly. Nick followed suit, bunching his jacket up to use as a pillow.

"Well, guess I'll take first watch then," Ellis said, rolling his shoulders and exiting the boxcar. _Oh, not cool, guys. _I shot a small glare at the men on the floor, eliciting an eye roll from Nick.

"Don't look at me like that, Sleeping Beauty. You and Ellis," he did a bad imitation of Ellis's accent, "were knocked out almost the entire chopper ride." _Okay, maybe he does have a point. It doesn't mean I have to like it. And couldn't they have been a little more _subtle _for crying out loud? That was basically the goddamn nose game. _I rolled my own eyes and went to join Ellis, closing the door behind me. He turned and looked at me questioningly.

"I'm not tired," I lied childishly in explanation. In reality, I was more than a little concerned leaving just one person outside to keep watch. How would we know if they got dragged off by a smoker or something? Again, not that I was the best backup to have around, but three guns is better than one, right?

I parked myself against the boxcar, pistols shoved into my pockets. The silence was almost absolute. In a way, it was unnerving. I was used to hearing the sounds of human activity at any given time. Without them, it felt uncomfortably like being underwater. Not to mention, I couldn't exactly shake the feeling that this was merely the quiet before the storm. I was absolutely positive something horrible was going to happen any minute now.

But for once, nothing happened. Maybe fate had just decided to fuck with me. Maybe I was being paranoid. I had no idea, and I really could give a shit less. Eventually, both of us had slid down the wall of the boxcar and were sitting on the hard ground, weapons casually leaning on our laps. I fought to keep my head upright and my eyes open. If I relaxed an inch, I'd end up falling asleep. _Wait a minute. You're out here with _Ellis. _Why is it so damn quiet?_

I glanced to my left. Ellis was obviously asleep. _Hate to do this, but at least one of us needs to stay awake. And I can't seem to manage that on my own. _

"Ellis," I whispered, shaking his arm gently. He blinked his eyes open blearily.

"Aw, shit, was I asleep?" he muttered. I nodded, fighting back a yawn myself. "Sorry 'bout that," he apologized. I shook my head, unable to suppress that yawn anymore.

"Can't exactly blame you," I said, blinking rapidly against the monster yawn.

"You should go back inside and get some sleep," he said. My heart sank somewhere in the region of my stomach. _You want me to leave you out here with a bunch of bloodthirsty zombies by yourself? Fat chance. _I suddenly felt more alert.

"No, I should stay out here," I said semi-casually, eyes tearing up as I stifled _another _yawn, "Just poke me or something if I fall asleep…" _Just like college, isn't it?_ At the moment, that situation struck me as just _slightly _less important than the current one. If I fell asleep in a lecture, I missed out on a few notes. If I fell asleep here, I could get myself and some of the last few humans on the planet killed.

Ellis opened his mouth to say something else, but I pointedly rooted myself further into the ground, stretching with an exaggerated sigh. _Hey, would you mind _not _stretching every cut on your body next time you're trying to make a point? All that kind of, you know, twinges a little._

There was a brief moment of silence, which wasn't helpful to my sanity. Whenever I was given time to think, my mind forced me to dwell on the fate of my family. Add an overactive imagination and rampant pessimism and I had enough gruesome pictures in my head to drive me crazy.

"So…" I started awkwardly, "What were you doing before…all this?" I asked the first question that popped into my head, gesturing expansively at the desolate landscape around us. Well, that opened the floodgate.

"I ran an auto shop with my buddies back in Savannah. We were also in a band. I played bass," he started enthusiastically. I smiled contagiously. "Instead of evacuatin', I armored up a truck to drive myself out of there. Built that thing to be zombie-proof," he paused for half a beat, "Turns out it was only ninety-nine percent zombie-proof. The last one percent tore that truck to shit." I couldn't suppress a laugh, accompanied by a very attractive snort, at the last part. I couldn't help thinking if it had been Keith driving the truck, that tank would have gotten its ass kicked. Of course, Keith would have ended up on fire somehow…but I digress.

"What about you?" he asked once I had finally managed to subdue my laughter. I shrugged.

"Not much to tell, really. I was a senior in college. Would've graduated in May. Came down here for spring break and got my arm mutilated by my zombified best friend," I ticked off the list in my head. _Wow, way to go, Princess Pessimism. Charming as always, aren't you?_

"What were you studyin'?" he asked, evidently unaffected by my bluntness.

"I was a math major," I answered, "I was going to study to be an actuary….or maybe I would've gone to grad school next fall." Ellis was looking at me kind of funny. "What?" I asked, half-smiling. He shook his head slowly.

"You're fuckin' crazy," he informed me somewhat reluctantly. I shrugged and grinned.

"Oh, I get that a lot," I said casually. I wasn't offended at all. Hell, I'd always gotten that kind of reaction from people. I was the kind of freak who did calculus homework for _fun_. I blinked back a yawn, trying in vain to disguise it as a cough or something. Ellis raised an eyebrow at me.

"_Seriously_. I'm fine. I'm not t_iiiiiiired_," the last part came out as a painfully extended yawn. Ellis just chuckled at me.

"Alright, let's compromise. You stay out here and sleep." From the look he was giving me, I could tell it really wasn't a question.

"Oh, fine then," I muttered grouchily, sliding further down the wall propping me up, "I suppose a gnat farting twelve miles away would wake me up anyway…" I trailed off in an incoherent mutter. My eyes slid shut almost as if they were weighted down.


	8. Get Out Alive

"_If you want to get out alive, oh run for your life!"_

I slept absolutely dreamlessly, which seemed a blessing to me. More likely than not, I would end up dreaming something unpleasant. Life had become enough of a nightmare. I really didn't want to run the risk of fighting the apocalypse in my sleep. Anyway, given my recent experiences, I would probably find myself getting eaten alive by the goddamn zombie pilot or crushed and burning in the remains of the downed chopper.

I woke up with a giant crick in my neck. _Ugh. That'll teach you to sleep sitting up. _I cracked my eyes open marginally. The glare of the sunset poured through my eyes, causing me to blink rapidly in annoyance. _Shit! I slept the whole day? _I hoped someone had taken over the watch. I would feel like a real asshole if Ellis had been up all night…I cleared the last of the sleep from my eyes with my fist, inhaling deeply.

"Good morning…sort of…" someone said. I turned my head a little and saw Rochelle leaning against the boxcar, a tired smile on her face. _Good, someone _did _take over. _I lifted my head completely and stretched painfully, causing several small pops and cracks. _I'm too old for this damn apocalypse._

"Where'd Ellis go?" I asked, hoping he'd gone inside and gotten some sleep. Rochelle half snorted and nodded at a spot behind me. Ellis was sitting propped against the boxcar, hat pulled over his eyes, asleep.

"He didn't want to wake you up," Rochelle explained. _Huh? _I was confused for a beat, and then I realized I'd been inadvertently using his shoulder as a pillow. _Ah, shit. Now I feel like a complete jackass._ I popped the rest of the way up, cracking my neck from side to side and rolling my shoulders like a boxer ready to be led into the ring. Rochelle rolled her eyes and tossed me something. I barely caught it…a granola bar. My stomach snarled at me lividly.

"Hungry, princess?" Nick asked from behind me. I turned to glare at him.

"Nope. Actually my stomach's just trying to eat itself. Thanks for your concern," I said, my voice dripping sarcasm. I ripped open the foil and crammed the granola bar down as quickly as I could manage. I had to actually _think _about the last time I'd eaten. I thought as I half-chewed. _Yesterday afternoon, _I concluded. _Holy shit, it's only been a _day_? _Honestly, it felt as if years had gone by. It was impossible to comprehend that mere hours ago my life had been intact.

I dropped the wrapper after pouring the last of the crumbs into my mouth, lightly scolding myself for littering. _Oh no! One little wrapper? I don't know how humanity will go on after my heinous crime…oh, wait. Humanity's already gone…mostly. Never mind._

"We heading out again soon?" I asked, not sure what response I wished for. Rochelle nodded.

"Don't really have a good reason to stick around. It's not the best idea to stay in one place too long," she explained. I nodded in agreement. _A boxcar's not exactly the best safe room in the world either. No way that thing would hold up against a tank._

I hopped back into the boxcar, ignoring the uncomfortable pulling in the region of my stomach, and collected extra clips for my pistols. It was almost calming. Preparing for another dozen fights to the death made me focus on the present, rather than dwelling on the past. It was like the images frozen in my brain were in a room with a flickering light switch, controlled by the idleness of my mind. _Life! Death! Life! Death! Life! Death!_

When I had finished rearming myself and exited our temporary shelter, I found the others all awake and preparing to leave.

"Alright, let's go," Coach said gruffly. We started walking toward a fenced-in gas station. A tattered sign hung across the fence. Coach read it aloud as we passed,

"No CEDA, no military, stay out…"

"Well, that looks promising," I said with mock cheerfulness.

"When they say stay out, I'm sure they meant someone else," Rochelle said over her shoulder. _Oh terrific. I suppose I should add that to my list of things that are currently trying to kill me…zombies and swamp people. At least the swamp people won't try to eat me…presumably. _

"They probably should have added no zombies to that sign," Nick commented dryly as he shot a stray common. _And I'm completely sure they would have paid attention. "No zombies, huh? Boy, I guess we can't eat the people behind the fence. Oh, darn." Hell, _CEDA_ probably didn't bother paying attention to that sign._

I found my mind shifting into its strategic mode again, the panic light switch firmly shut off for now. This was definitely not a time to think about death. Okay, scratch that. It was definitely not a time to be thinking about deaths that had likely _already happened _and that I had _no means of preventing_. I cocked my pistols menacingly, a grim smile frozen on my face in a grotesque mask.

We walked cautiously through the ramshackle little town, not running into anything too exciting. _You know how this goes. Just give it a minute. I _guarantee _a charger at the very least._ I tensely told myself to shut the fuck up. But I still kept my eyes and ears open, just in case. After all, the calm before a storm couldn't last forever.

"Alright," Coach started, stopping in the middle of the rough road, "We should split up and search for supplies. We'll meet up at the river when we're done. Nick, you and Ellis search that end of the town. The rest of us will cover this side," he finished, gesturing. No one looked particularly happy with the arrangement of our little search parties. Especially Nick. Nick and Ellis headed off to their assigned half and Coach started walking in the opposite direction. Rochelle and I glanced at each other and followed him. I leaned over and whispered to Rochelle,

"Are you _sure_ he wants them to come back in one piece?" She shook her head slowly and half-smiled. Coach craned his neck over his shoulder.

"Ya can't go by people who get along," he explained shortly, "It has to be about _skill_." I shook my head in annoyance. _You know, I do believe you should be somewhat insulted. _

I swatted my annoyance aside and concentrated on the task before me. The three of us poked around the shacks and didn't find much anything of interest. There were scattered clips of ammunition, but these were few and far between. The only half-significant find was a pipe bomb, which Coach claimed. My snarling stomach was hoping to find some food, but we had no such luck. Every scrap of food had already been scavenged or had become rancid.

We were on the second floor of a store of some sort when I heard someone swear loudly and the subsequent echoing roar of a horde.

"Oh, come on!" I protested, raising my pistols. _We didn't even do anything to piss them off this time!_ Staccato bursts of gunfire sounded from somewhere behind us, accompanied by a weird metallic clicking and creaking. Glancing out the window, I could see something moving toward us across the river. _Oh, fantastic. Never touch the damn levers, people! _Especially _when we're scattered all over hell like this!_

Coach, Rochelle, and I attempted to get back to the ground to help the others. As we began to make our way down the stairs, part of the horde poured through the open shop door as if they had been shot from a fire hose. We all fired rapidly into the mass of ex-humanity to no avail. Coach and Rochelle were shoved down the stairs by the horde's onslaught. I was left on the landing by myself.

"_Shit!_" I swore. My pistols were completely empty and with the damn zombies surrounding me, I couldn't reload. I needed _help_, damn it! I glanced downstairs. I couldn't see Coach or Rochelle anymore. Hell, I couldn't see the goddamn _floor _any more. The room was filled with writhing commons.

I tried desperately to get down the stairs, but I was swimming against the current. The horde pushed violently against me, making progress absolutely impossible. I whipped those closest to me with my pistols as I was shoved back. Inevitably, I lost my footing, landing hard on my back. I instinctively tucked myself into a ball and covered my face with my hands as the horde kicked and clawed at me. One caught me in the mouth and I tasted blood.

"_Fire in the hole!_" Coach shouted from downstairs. I heard the welcome beeping of a pipe bomb. _Why the hell didn't you throw that earlier, genius? _I almost laughed in relief, anticipating escape for the first time in several minutes.

You know that old saying, "don't count your chickens before they hatch?" Well, as it turns out, there's a damn good reason for it.

I thought I was going crazy when I heard the beeping getting _louder_. _He threw it out the door right? _ A small gray object landed on the floor next to me, continuing its incessant beeping. My blood ran cold. _Shitshitshitshitshitshit. _

I needed to get up. I needed to _get the fuck out of there._ The commons around me pushed and shoved to get to the pipe bomb, their movements restricting mine. _Coach, if this kills me, I swear to God, I will haunt you for-fucking-ever! _

The part of my brain that wasn't half-panicking told me there was no possible way I could get down the stairs. _The window! Go! _I clawed through the horde like one possessed. The only thought in my head was survival. After all I'd been through, I was _not _going to die like this. I screamed incoherently as I beat my way to the only plausible exit. I almost cried in relief when I broke free of the boundary. I broke into a run, diving out the window without giving myself the chance to think about it. _Get off the roof! Get off the roof! Get off the roof! _

I lost my footing and slid down the metal roof, landing on something like a fridge before falling hard on the ground. The impact knocked the breath from me in an undignified wheeze at almost the same moment the bomb exploded.

_Breathe! _I followed my logical side's command, whooping in air. When I was able to breathe somewhat normally, I took the opportunity to reload my pistols. I delicately felt my sides. They hurt, but not so much that I couldn't walk. _Now where the hell is everyone? _The backs of my arms tingled with apprehension and my stomach dropped to the floor. _Calm down. How about you actually _look _for them before you make assumptions? _

I cautiously backed myself against the building I had escaped. The last thing I needed was to be attacked from behind. _Keep your eyes open. The last thing you need is to get nailed by a goddamn charger or something while you're out here by yourself. _I strained my ears for…well, most any sound at all. Ever since the pipe bomb had exploded, everything was silent. Even the creaking thing that had been making its way across the river had stopped moving, waiting innocently by the dock, gate invitingly open. A crude sign leaning near it read, "Gone to Village Des Marais." _Well, at least there's a chance someone else made it…_

_Wait. What was that?_

Voices. I stepped away from my cover slightly, still keeping an eye out for threats in my peripheral vision. It sounded like they were arguing about something.

"…behind me! The hell'd you expect me to do?" Coach.

"Hey…I'm down here…" I croaked. No one heard me.

"Wouldn't've killed ya to fuckin' _check_!" Ellis.

"Uh…hello?" I tried again. No such luck.

"Boy, I about had a goddamn hunter screwin' me up the _ass_. Excuse me for bein' a little fuckin' distracted!"

"May I remind you exactly _who _attracted the horde in the first fucking place?" Nick. _Oh for cripe's sake! _I gave up on coherent speech and fired one shot across the river. Absolute silence followed. _My God, that was annoying. _All four of them appeared on the roof. I smiled faintly and saluted them with my pistol.

"Personally, I'd recommend the stairs," I said, having finally regained full use of my voice. Coach, Rochelle, and Nick turned around, presumably taking my "advice" to heart. Ellis, on the other hand, dropped off the roof in a slightly more dignified manner than I had. He at least managed to land on his feet. Within moments, he was standing in front of me, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"You okay?" he asked. I wiped the side of my mouth with my hand. It came away flecked with red. I shrugged.

"I'll live," I said, even managing a small smile. _Good girl. Now you know that feeling of wanting to smack Coach upside the head with a frying pan? You should probably ignore that for now. There's still pleeeeenty of room in your emotion closet, my dear. _I followed my own instructions, wondering vaguely how sane it was that a, I was constantly having mental conversations with myself, and b, I had just called myself a pet name. _Well, it really isn't a question of your _being _insane. It's more a matter of the degree to which you've lost your marbles. Either way, now is not the time for psychoanalysis, sweetheart._

My subconscious was kind of a bitch.

The rest of the group appeared from around the corner of the store, looking somewhat relieved. I found my face settling into a cold glare. _Smooth move, dumbshit. I swear to God, if you say that out loud…just settle down. Remember the lovely Closet O' Suppressed Emotion? I found the perfect spot for this bit of mindless rage. How about we just shove that in there? _With significant effort, I relaxed my expression, visualizing myself cramming tangible amounts of anger in a plastic bin.

I was mostly in control of myself when they reached us. I restrained an urge to cock an eyebrow at Coach. _You're allowed to have _some _reaction. You just have to keep it within sane limits._ Okay. Now just what was regarded as a sane reaction to another person almost inadvertently causing your painful and horrible death?

"Sorry 'bout earlier," Coach started, "I honestly thought you were right behind us." _That's your cue to respond, Captain Oblivious. _

"'s fine," I muttered unconvincingly, "Could've happened to anyone…" _Oscar-worthy. Simply breathtaking. _Shut the fuck up.

Rochelle broke the awkward silence. "I think it's time to take a ride on the ferry," she said, pointedly walking closer to the dock. _Thank you! _I shrugged off the whole almost-getting-blown-to-smithereens-by-my-jackass-teammate thing. Since I wasn't seriously injured, we obviously had better things to do than to dwell on the recent past. We piled onto the small platform and started it moving across the river.

"So, Nick, what do you think the chances are the swamp people are still alive?" Rochelle asked in a matter reminiscent of one remarking on the weather. Nick scoffed.

"What, alive and infected, or alive and not zombies?"

"Not zombies." Nick made a point out of thinking for a moment, taking on an almost professor-like air. His expression cleared and he announced his carefully calculated findings.

"100 to 1."

"Sound about right." I shook my head and turned away from the pair of pessimists. I had enough of those thoughts running through my head on my own, thank you _very _much. There was a short moment of near-silence. _My God this boat is taking forever. _Ellis, as usual, was the first to break it.

"Listen up everybody," he began intently, "Be on the lookout for blood farmers. I'm serious." I turned around curiously. _What in the hell…?_

"Boy, what the hell are you talking about?" Rochelle demanded.

"Duh. Farmers that don't grow crops; they grow _people_…to _eat_," Ellis responded, still maintaining a dead serious tone. There was another short moment of silence as what he'd just said sunk in. I started laughing uncontrollably, unable to hold it in any longer. I couldn't help myself. It was just too goddamn ridiculous.

"Jesus Christ, Ellis!" Nick exploded, "Like the goddamn _zombies_ aren't bad enough!" I made an effort to shut myself up, tears beading in the corners of my eyes. By the time I'd finally succeeded, we had reached the other side of the river. The gate to the ferry sprang open automatically and we disembarked, already scanning the area around us for new threats.

Evidently we were headed even _farther _from civilization. The few marks we had seen in the rough town behind us were completely gone now. The only signs of human life were the unstable-looking wooden walkways bridging areas of the swamp. It would be completely worth it if we could find more survivors though. Even as a group of five, we had had far too many close calls. Safety in numbers and all that…

I froze almost before I heard it. The forlorn, echoing sobbing. I flinched.

"_Witch_," I hissed in a low whisper. We crept carefully along the planks of the walkways, searching for the source of the noise. I finally saw her, illuminated by the faint glow of the camping lantern sitting beside her. Coach motioned for us to stop. We all froze dead in our tracks. On the one hand, we had a PMSing zombie, on the other, live alligators. _I'll take my chances with the alligators._

_Stop! Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see. _I pushed carefully past the others, sucking it up and cautiously dipping my feet in the water. I shivered, a combination of my proximity to the witch and the feeling of cold, rank water flowing in through my aerated tennis shoes. I walked slowly, shuffling in the heavy silt at the bottom to avoid any splashing. I held my breath as I passed the witch, chancing a glance at her, just to make sure I wasn't pissing her off too much. _Let's see. I'm Kate, I seek the safe zone, and what do you mean? An African or a European swallow?_ Luckily for me, she hadn't budged an inch. I finally made it to the other side and let out a breath of relief. _Congratulations, Arthur. _I turned around to face the others and gave them a sarcastic bow for the occasion.

The others quickly followed my lead, sloshing through the tepid water as quietly as humanly possible. There were a couple of close calls (Coach and Ellis weren't exactly adept at the whole quiet splashing thing), but soon enough, most of us had made it past the witch. Everyone but Nick had managed to sneak past her. He was still waiting on the other side, looking questioningly at the ground. He then attempted to pass the witch without taking his feet off dry land. _You are a fucking moron! _

The rest of us watched silently, afraid that even speaking out loud would push the witch over the edge. Hell, even given the dead silence, the witch had started to rise, growling softly. _Oh my God…stupid! You're a stupid man! Now you're going to die! _I tensed even more, anticipating an abrupt change from threatening growling to piercing screaming.

But…nothing happened. Strangely enough, he managed to get past the witch before she went apeshit. There was a collective release of breath. Rochelle, eyebrows raised comically high, opened her mouth to speak, but Coach shook his head and glanced pointedly at the dangerously close witch. We moved away from the witch and continued along the walkway. As soon as the sound of sobbing faded into memory, the silence was broken by a vocal explosion.

"Have you lost your _mind_?" Rochelle burst out. _Well, there may have been a perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe he didn't want to chance the 'gators or something?_ "What in the _hell _were you thinking?" Nick shrugged marginally and didn't say a damn thing.

"C'mon, let's go, damn it!" Coach interrupted.

Ignoring Nick's idiocy for now, we kept going. We soon reached the end of the plank walkway, leaving us no option but to continue through the swamp water. We stepped into the water unenthusiastically, our pace slowed from a combination of frigid temperature and a thick, mucky bottom. Nick mumbled expletives under his breath the entire time, walking as carefully as we had back by the witch.

The next safe house wasn't far. _Gee, I wonder if that used to be part of the sewer system around here? Speaking of which, is it really much of a mystery just _what _you may have been stepping in this whole time? _We wasted no time getting inside the giant pipe. As soon as the door was barred, Nick set his weapon on the floor and meticulously started squeezing water out of his pants.

"Shit," he mumbled under his breath, "All this swamp water's going to _ruin _my white suit!" _Oh, you have got to be shitting me…_


	9. Shooting the Moon

"_Don't get hung up on it, just soldier on with it, and good luck with shooting the moon."_

There was a very short pause while we all stared at Nick incredulously. Experiencing a minor epiphany, I was the first to chime in,

"Wait…don't tell me. _That's_ why you walked _right fucking next to _that witch?" The subsequent silence was _very _reassuring. The corners of my mouth twitched. _No frigging way!_ Nick shrugged,

"What? It's a three thousand dollar suit." _Oh my God, he's actually serious! _Rochelle started laughing a little hysterically.

"You mean the one with zombie brains all over it? That one?" she asked pointedly.

"Brains come out. Swamp water doesn't," Nick said matter-of-factly, "Don't ask me how I know that." I rolled my eyes. He didn't exactly strike me as Scarface.

"Who ain't right in the head now?" Ellis said under his breath. I snorted. I was pretty sure I knew someone who would get along swimmingly with Nick…_Nope. That topic's off limits. You know better. Don't think about her or anyone else. There's nothing you can do about it, and nothing you _could _have done. Reload your pistols and get the hell out of here before you knock your proverbial closet open._

I followed my mind's advice, clenching my jaw and silently gathering spare clips. A few minutes later, once Rochelle and Nick had stopped bitching at each other, we gathered at the exit. Peering through the bars, I noticed the landscape ahead of me was mostly water. Suddenly, I vehemently regretted my inability to swim. The water itself presented another problem. I couldn't stand walking through water I couldn't see through. Who knew what was down there? _Oh, calm down. You saw _Piranha._ Assuming you don't flash anyone, you'll probably be perfectly safe._

We finally reentered the swamp, cold, murky water reaching our waists. Nick started a steady string of rather artistic curses as soon as he set foot in the water. _And he calls _me _princess? For God's sake man! Suck. It. The. Fuck. Up. _Okay, to be honest, maybe I was being a bit hard on him. For all I knew, he was using the stupid suit excuse to cover up something else. Maybe he'd had a family…although he really didn't strike me as a family kind of guy. I vaguely remembered reading something like that once upon a time. Something to do with the _Titanic_…the people in the lifeboats lamented the loss of the china and so forth rather than the pending loss of those they loved. They concentrated on smaller losses, knowing that the most significant would hurt too much. Yeah, or maybe he's just being a conceited assh-_what the fuck was that?_

I was pretty sure something had just grabbed my leg underwater. I froze, pointing my pistols at the water. _There's something alive in here…_

Everyone else seemed to have noticed the same thing. Evidently, the situation had even been deemed significant enough for Nick to shut up. I felt more like a character in a bad horror movie than ever. I remembered the days I'd watched those movies just to have something to laugh at. The characters in those movies were always complete jackasses. I would always yell instructions at the screen. Don't go into the basement alone. You do realize you can wake her up with the adrenaline plot point, right? I was struck by an image of a different me watching the horror movie of my current life and laughing as she yelled instructions at us. _Maybe I should listen to myself._

"Um…guys?" I started, "I think we should get out of the w-" I cut off my sentence with an uncharacteristic shriek as I was pulled underwater. I jerked my leg forward, feeling something sharp drag across my pant leg as it released me. I broke the surface almost as quickly as I went under. I blinked swamp water out of my eyes rapidly, trying to figure out exactly what was going on.

From what I could gather, we were being attacked by the Legion of Gollum.

Half-naked zombies popped out of the muddy water, slinging blinding silt in our faces as we backed to dry land. Said zombies mostly waddled through the mud on all fours, somehow making them more animalistic than your average zombie. Fortunately, annoying as they were, they weren't particularly difficult to kill off.

"I tell ya, these mud men take all the fun outta mud," Ellis commented, shaking his head. I spat a stream of nasty water out of mouth and coughed.

"Seconded," I agreed as we started moving again. _Now let's see. Everything has been completely silent for a whole seven seconds, so…3…2…1…_

"Man, all this mud reminds me of-"

"Oh come _on_!" Nick complained subtly. Rochelle glared at him, probably still annoyed about the whole suit debacle.

"Ellis, sweetie, can this wait?" she asked, not really waiting for a response.

"Okay." _I wonder if she realizes how condescending that sounds? I never was one for pet names…at least once I got out of diapers. _I rolled my eyes, shook my head, and slowed my pace. I glanced sidelong at Ellis and gestured for him to continue with a slight smile. He sucked in a breath and the words came flooding out.

"Keith was going to build a shack once, to live in and all, and I know most people here, they build houses and they _become_ shacks, but Keith, he was about jumpin' right to the shack stage…"

Before I could so much as guess what percentage of Keith had received third degree burns in this particular escapade, a hunter came screaming straight the hell out of nowhere. It was headed straight for me. I supposed it made sense for it to go after the weakest prey in the group. I didn't have time to do anything more than react. Instinctively, I ducked under the hunter's arc. The zombie sailed over me and landed about two feet to my rear. In the same motion, I twisted my body around, plugging fifteen rounds into the hunter for good measure. _Panic shooting, for the win! _The whole scene probably only took a few seconds.

I blew a stray piece of damp hair out of my face and turned to the others. Most of them were concentrating on the surrounding landscape, hoping to head off any further attacks. Ellis, on the other hand, was staring at me, looking like he was recovering from a recent heart attack. _Hey, just because I'm generally useless doesn't mean I can't do something helpful once in a while!_ I shook my hair out of my face theatrically as I straightened up.

"You were saying?"

*/*/*/*/*

The next few hours were uneventful, which was nice. After being ambushed by those creepy-ass mud men almost as soon as we set foot in the swamp, I was ready for some peace. In fact, if it hadn't been for Ellis keeping up a constant stream of chatter, it would have been downright boring. Coach, Rochelle, and Nick soon tired of our mostly one-sided conversation and made a point of walking a ways ahead of us. Personally, that suited me just fine. I heard less bitching that way.

Ellis told me about a million more stunts him and Keith had pulled that could easily have landed them on _Jackass_. The only difference I could see between the two was that the assorted injuries on _Jackass _were premeditated. Seriously, who sticks porcupine quills in their butt and expects to come out in mint condition? He seemed equal parts embarrassed and flattered when I told him my comparison.

Of course, I hadn't done much better as far as stupid injuries went. Granted mine weren't nearly as extreme as the injuries Keith had received over the years. I had gotten away with two small brownish scars, one on my abdomen and another just below my right knee. Keith's injuries were too numerous to keep straight. I was fairly sure he had covered ninety percent of his body in third degree burns a couple of times. And he had several scars from the time he got attacked by 'gators in the swamp. And he was missing a couple of fingers and a thumb.

And, unless he had had it removed, he had "I'm a moron" tattooed across his forehead.

My injuries' origin stories weren't nearly as interesting either. Keith had battled alligators, tear gas, homemade fireworks, and a riding lawnmower. I had fought a metal podium and some concrete blocks…and lost.

I found myself slipping into a comfortable back and forth swapping of stupid stunts from our past lives. I wasn't entirely sure why I was talking so much. I generally let the other person take the wheel in the conversation. Maybe it was just because Ellis was easy to talk with. He seemed to be one of those rare people with the ability to listen as well as they could talk. I got the feeling that he had a genuine interest in what I was saying, eyes not glazing over with boredom, but curious and almost constantly smiling.

I carefully stretched when it was my turn to talk, gingerly avoiding stretching my stitched up arm too much. I had already used up my relatively impersonal story about passing out in the middle of a speech in my sophomore year in high school, thus receiving my stomach scar. Since my teenage escapades had been relatively limited, I was forced to bring something personal to the table.

"I think it was my freshman year in college," I started, "I used to have my sister…Lizzy...over at my dorm once a semester. She would've been fourteen…" I trailed off uncertainly, remembering that time in contrast with the current situation. A completely carefree weekend…cherry Pepsi, Sour Patch Kids, Sun Chips, Oreos…ordering all the dessert shooters off the Applebee's menu…I was losing focus.

"What was she like?" The words didn't do much to realign my thoughts. What was she like? We had been four years apart, just enough distance to start a six year sibling rivalry war. She had started out as my…um…"nemesis" I suppose…although that was a really strong word to describe a four-year-old. After our youngest sister was born and we had both matured, she transformed from being my worst enemy into my best friend. She was the one person I could always talk to, the one person who had never broken my trust, in many ways mature beyond her years.

She was the one who had worried about me the most blatantly whenever I said didn't consider my problems worth talking about. She wanted me to know I was free to tell her anything, regardless of whether I considered it trivial or not. I took that seriously, but never really took advantage of her offer. I always figured it was best to wait a few hours after I got pissed or depressed just to ensure it wasn't stupid. By then, even if it really _was _a big deal, the pain would be dulled enough to ignore. Now that she was gone, I regretted my withdrawal.

I realized Ellis was still waiting for an answer. I took a long, shuddering breath to calm myself before speaking,

"She is," I shook my head angrily, "_was _my best friend." Ellis' eyebrows furrowed in concern at "was". I chose to ignore it. "She was always looking out for everyone else. Never had to doubt whether she would be in my corner…" I couldn't say much more without losing it, so I instead continued my story with a noncommittal shake of my head,

"Anyway, we were heading home from dinner and had pretty severe sugar rushes going on. One of my friends was with us and she was…thoroughly freaked out." I smiled as I remembered. She was a timid girl to begin with…watching me and Lizzy act like unrestrained morons confused her to no end. It was obvious she wasn't sure whether to be disturbed or amused. I could hardly blame her. "We danced in front of the Applebee's," I said with a small laugh,

"_Ain't No Other Man_. Christina Aguilera. Hadn't heard that song in forever. So we just broke out in bad dancing in front of the Applebee's…and the hotel next to it…on a Saturday night…" I smiled, "I must say, I pulled off a _mean _sprinkler. My robot could have used work though. Anyway, so for some insane reason, we decided to start singing _Make a Man Out of You_." Ellis looked confused. "From _Mulan_? Seriously?" He shook his head, smiling sheepishly at my intensity.

"Wow…and people call _me _a deprived nineties' child over my lack of Pokémon…anyway, there was a little retaining wall running next to the sidewalk. Sugar told us to run on it while we performed our very off-key Disney musical," I paused for effect, "Long story short, I'm not the most coordinated person in the world. I tripped on a bike rack or something and sliced my knee through my jeans. Still have a scar from that too, pathetically enough. It's almost too bad," I paused again, a nostalgic smile crossing my face.

"What do you mean?"

"No vicious wild animals? No hospital visits? No failed attempts at deep frying turkeys…" I trailed off and we both dissolved into laughter, earning a few strategic glares from our elders. I childishly stuck my tongue out at them until they turned around slowly shaking their heads.

It was the closest to content I had felt since the drive to Savannah. If you took away the risk of alligators, the freaking freezing swamp water, the ever-present stench of the swamp…oh hell, if I was anywhere _but _the swamp (sans zombies), I would be in a pretty damn good mood. Even the zombies seemed to have taken the rest of the day off. Things were damn near _normal_…well, as close as they could really get considering the circumstances anyway.

The comfortable silence was suddenly broken by a harmony of echoing shrieks.

"Hunter!" I warned, tensing as I angled toward the sound. The shrieking echoed again.

"I don't think so," Nick argued, "Hunter_s_." _Oh for the love of…that's just what we need right now. A bunch of hunters attacking us while we're knee deep in shit water. _

We waited in tense silence, searching the few trees around us for the bastards. If we could only manage to hit them before they landed on someone, we could minimize injury.

"Hey," Rochelle whispered, "There's a safe house in that shack." I stupidly craned my neck around to see what she was talking about. Sure enough, there was a safe house about ten yards directly behind Nick, Rochelle, and Coach; one that looked like it might actually stand up to an attack for once. I was really getting sick of sleeping in boxcars and oversized drainage pipes to be perfectly honest…The trick, of course, would be getting everyone inside in one piece.

By the look on Coach's face, I could tell he was considering the same dilemma. Specifically, there was the problem of positioning. The nearest group was ten yards away from the safe house, but Ellis and I were a good ten yards farther than _that_. Fuck. I could see who would get the worst end of this situation…

"C'mon, let's go damn it!" Coach growled, turning toward the beckoning open door.

The tension exploded all at once. As soon as we made a move toward safety, two hunters came lancing out of nearby trees, claws outstretched. One of them inevitably knocked into me, but its head exploded before it could do much damage. I sprang back to my feet and pistol whipped the other hunter off Ellis.

As I helped him to his feet, I realized the others had already gained the safety of the shack. Without a backward glance, we promptly hauled ass toward the safe house, trying to ignore the obvious sounds of gathering infected behind us. Nick stood in the entrance of the safe house, propping the door open.

"_Run_, Forrest, _run_!" he shouted in annoyance. Before I could respond in kind, I heard an odd squeaking and gurgling behind me. _Oh, for shit's sake, what now?_ My silent question was answered by a hack as a ball of acid green goo shot over my shoulder and hit Nick directly in the chest.

Despite the injury, Nick managed to move out of the way in time to let us in. I jammed the bar to the door in place as someone took the spitter down with a shotgun. _Shit. Shit. Shit. _I surveyed the new safe house immediately, noticing Coach and Rochelle dragging Nick into the one separate bedroom. My eyes lit upon a row of cupboards to my left. I carefully placed my pistols on the floor and ripped open the nearest cupboard, pawing aside various foodstuffs in search of something useful.

I noticed Ellis still standing in the middle of the room, trying to figure out something to do. I gestured toward the cupboards impatiently,

"Baking soda!" I managed. Ellis found the small orange box within seconds and tossed it to me curiously. I ran over to the spare room, hoping nothing would spill along the way. I also sincerely hoped the spitter actually spit out _acid_ and not _base_. For all I knew, I could make things even _worse_. One chunk of substance from the spitter could spread into a puddle large enough to incapacitate everyone on the team. I couldn't imagine the effect it could have on one person.

I skidded into the room with an unusual amount of coordination and took in the scene before me. Nick was lying on the bed, letting out a long string of eloquent curses. A first aid kit lay open on the floor, a pair of scissors the only item missing. Apparently, Coach and Rochelle had tried to cut away Nick's shirt to keep the acid from reaching skin.

Which obviously had not helped.

The wound was _smoking_. It was actually fucking _smoking_. I didn't quite understand how that was possible, but it didn't really matter in that moment. This wasn't chem class. This was quite possibly a matter of life or death. I elbowed my way past Rochelle and dumped most of the baking soda on Nick's chest. Miraculously, it seemed to work. The smoking stopped and Nick's rapid fire swearing slowed to a normal pace. _Note to self: spitter goo is indeed an acid._ I noticed everyone was staring at me.

"What?" I asked self-consciously.

"The hell you learn that shit?" Ellis asked. I shrugged and half smiled.

"_Fight Club_, actually."


	10. Shadows of the Night

"_You can cry tough baby, it's alright"_

My temporary moment of usefulness over, I exited the bedroom and left Coach and Rochelle to finish patching Nick up. Since the threat of imminent death had been temporarily suspended, my stomach allowed itself an impatient growl.

"Alright, alright, _alright_ already," I muttered, moving toward the cupboards again. _Hmm. Maybe we should have been a little more careful in our search…_

Boxes of supplies were strewn haphazardly across the floor. I examined one of the half-squashed packages. Pop Tarts. _Score! _I started stuffing the food back into the cupboards, noting their fullness with satisfaction. Whoever had stayed here before us had been well prepared. Our supplies included, but weren't limited to, a plastic covered flat of water bottles, a couple dozen canned meals (fortunately there _was _a can opener), several sleeping bags, and a few half melted candy bars. That wasn't even considering the array of weapons and first aid on a table near the exit. Automatic weapons, combat shotguns, a shit-pile of ammo, four brand new first aid kits, and a couple pistols (unfortunately not Magnums) were laid out expertly.

I glanced around the rest of the room with a satisfied smile as I tore open a strawberry Pop Tart package. I turned to Ellis.

"We'd _better_ not be moving anytime soon…" I said, breaking off a chunk of pastry. I had just about had it for the day. I had too much nightmare fuel as it was…

"Uh…Kate…"

"Hm?" I couldn't respond any more eloquently. I had a mouthful of Pop Tart to contend with.

"Your arm's bleedin' again." I glanced down at my arm. Sure enough, it was stained red again. I swallowed quickly.

"Oh, for _fuck's_ sake!" I exclaimed. The damned thing hadn't even bothered me until someone mentioned it. Now it hurt like a son of a bitch again. _Fuck my life._ I placed my food on the table and set to work trying to peel the dirty bandage off…which was _not _easy. Sighing in frustration, I swept a pile of ammo out of the way and perched on the end of the table. As expected, Ellis stood in front of me with a first aid kit. Resigning myself, I held out my injured arm like a good patient.

He unwrapped the gauze gingerly, the dirty fabric making a dull ripping noise as he went. _Well, at least his bedside manner's an improvement over Nick. _I made an effort not to show any visible reaction. I couldn't help but wonder how much the cleaning of the actual cut would hurt if removing the damn bandage was this painful.

The dirty gauze finally came free, landing with a wet thump on the floor. Ellis let out a long breath as he looked at the newly exposed cuts. _Don't look at it. _I couldn't help myself. I looked. And I gagged a little. I was used to this sort of gore in the abstract. It wasn't as if I'd never seen a horror movie before. Hell, I'd even inflicted similar wounds in real life now, even if I hadn't yet grown accustomed to it. But to see something that gory on my own body was something entirely different. Not only were the damn things bleeding again, some of the stitches had ripped free. I knew what that meant.

"More fucking stitches?" I asked in annoyance.

"More fuckin' stitches," he confirmed with an apologetic smile. I sighed heavily and swallowed a pair of pain pills. I was _not _looking forward to this. I knew there was only one person available to redo my stitches…and he had claimed to not know shit about how to do it. If I had known anything about sewing, I would have tried to do it myself. I grabbed a bottle of disinfectant from the first aid kit, poured some on a leftover square of gauze, and tentatively touched it to my cuts. _Might as well do something I kn-_

"_Fuck!_" I hissed. It would be really fucking nice if one, just _one_, of these first aid kits had disinfectant that wasn't alcohol based. I cut off the sound when I noticed Ellis' sympathetic look. I never liked feeling weak…physically or otherwise. I ground the knuckles of my left hand against my forehead, "Let's get this over with…" _Now, what to distract yourself with this time? Maybe an old _Office _standby? Desert Island? Who'd you do? _I couldn't help snorting at the track my mind had taken. Ellis looked confused.

"Uh…you okay?" he asked.

"Oh…I'm fine…just a little…punchy, I guess…" I really couldn't blame him for being confused. I was flipping my emotions on and off like a light switch again. I tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace when I noticed where the needle was. "Wanna play Desert Island?"

*/*/*/*/*

Between the accumulating injuries and the supplies found in the unusually spacious safe room, it wasn't difficult for Coach to decide we should stick around a couple of days. Fine by me.

The next few days passed in a monotonous blur. I managed to entertain myself for a few hours with a half-full Sudoku book on the floor, but that was about it. The rest of the time was mind numbing. Eat. Drink. Sleep. If it wasn't for my psychological drama, I would have said I was going mad with boredom. That wasn't exactly right.

I was running out of distractions. I had too much time to think again.

I was going slowly insane again.

I spent a lot of my time alone in a corner of the safe house wrapped in my sleeping bag, my overactive imagination besting me once again. I closed my eyes, feigning fatigue rather than mental weakness, and waited for the thoughts and accompanying pain to pass, like…a cramp or something.

Odd as it seems, I was actually looking forward to going back into danger again. I could deal with zombies with the help of my team, but they couldn't help me cleanse my own mind.

Against my will, I found myself being dragged slowly to sleep.

_ I wasn't sure where I was. I had the feeling of being enclosed somewhere, but I couldn't be sure. Every surface around me shone with a blinding light, making it impossible to concentrate on any one thing at once. In a way, it was almost like the dark. Anything even slightly visible was cast in ethereal shadow. _

_ Shapes milled around me aimlessly, moving too fast for me to catch more than a glimpse of them. A teenage girl with unkempt, shaggy hair floated past me, sitting on an invisible perch. A younger girl, hair cropped to her chin, stared reflectively into a mirror. A laughing flash of royal blue darted past, colliding with another blue blur happily. An older girl pored over something in her lap, knuckles kneading her forehead. Finally, a grim faced young woman stalked past me, arms raised defensively. As she passed, the white of the room became flecked with spots of vivid crimson, dousing the lights and throwing the world around me into sharp relief._

_ I looked around me and saw nothing but red-flecked white. There were no walls and no more shapes. Suddenly, I could hear a low chorus of voices behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a vermilion door. It reminded me vaguely of something I'd seen before, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. A small, barred slit sat just above my eye level. I stood on my tiptoes and peered through the bars. No, I _melted_ through them somehow. I was standing in the middle of my family's living room. I recognized that much._

_ I was moving without conscious thought. My body drifted ghostlike through the room, registering its odd emptiness. Usually the living room would be crowded with my family playing a video game or something. The silence was unnerving. I floated through a wall, entering the kitchen. A strong, burning smell assaulted my nostrils. The scene flashed for a split second. I caught a glimpse of the shattered sliding glass door and the cracked table before everything flashed back to normal. The burning smell lingered. _

_I was moving through the floor, sinking weightlessly. I found myself in the middle of the basement. My body became solid again, the oddest sensation I'd ever experienced. The voices were clearer now. I could distinguish some of the words around me._

"_Something sugar, something salt, something cherry, something tart!" a voice chanted in a sing-song manner. My mind flashed in recognition._

"_Lizzy?" I called. The other voices faded away, leaving mine to echo emptily in the dark. "Mom? Dad? Brooke? Where are you guys?" Those words joined the chorusing, haunting echo. My shaky voice drifted past me at all angles. A loud pounding rang out. I took it as a response and hurried toward the noise. I stopped in front of the door to Dad's office. I twisted the knob, but the damn thing was locked. I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could, a huge chunk of wood exploded out of the door. _

_Four bloody arms stuck through the door hungrily. I backed away and screamed. I could barely see the milky white eyes of the monsters hiding behind the door. The two let out a chorusing howl and redoubled their efforts to bring down the door. _Oh, God…_I recognized them. My _parents _were behind the door, mutated and lusting after my blood. I turned to run, but heard another, lower growl that froze me in my tracks. _

_Another one of the monsters was gripping the wall with elongated claws, shreds of flesh hanging out of its bared teeth. A distant part of me screamed in recognition. _Hunter! _But this hunter looked different. Instead of the customary sweatshirt, it wore a tattered dress. Lank red hair hung around its shoulders. _No! This can't be happening! _But it was. My sister's head rose to meet my gaze. I gagged at the sight. Her dark blue eyes were completely gone, leaving gruesome, empty sockets in their wake. She grinned at me and shrieked, pouncing with deadly accuracy from her perch on the wall. I ducked under the attack and tried to flee up the stairs, but they disappeared as soon as I approached. _

_Without thinking, I rushed into the furnace room, shutting the door behind me with effort. Over the continuing echoes of my own voice and the distant sound of wood splintering, I heard a low piercing wail coming from somewhere behind me. The hair on the back of my neck rose in response. Without really knowing why, I ducked around the humidifier and saw a crouched little girl, rocking back and forth. _Oh, God. _Please _no. Anything but that…you can't take them all away from me!

_That thought rattled in my head as I touched the girl, my youngest sister, on the shoulder. Her head whipped around angrily, green eyes turned vivid red, auburn hair now a lifeless gray. She stood slowly, bringing her new claws up in a threatening display. I ran out of the room, screaming unintelligibly. _

_I stopped in the middle of the basement and realized I was surrounded. My parents had broken through the office door and ran toward me with their teeth bared. Lizzy was crouched on the floor to my right, preparing for another pounce. Brooke pursued me from the furnace room, screaming piercingly. I prepared myself for the worst and clenched my eyes shut. _

_But the expected pain did not come. I opened my eyes and found the bodies of my mutated family lying around me, lifeless faces maintaining their feral snarls. I knelt in the midst of them, whispering their names to myself brokenly. Something warm rested against my thigh. I glanced down and realized I was holding a pistol. It smoked almost cartoonishly. _No! I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry…

_Blood began dripping from the ceiling rhythmically, turning the scene around me crimson once more. The feral looks faded from the faces of my family, gradually dissolving into the ones I loved. Tears poured down my cheeks. I absently noticed the basement was filling with blood. Escape was impossible. The exits were gone and the mysterious power that had propelled me earlier had left. My efforts were futile and I was dragged under a sea of vermilion._

I woke up with a start. My body was covered in a cold sweat. My breath wheezed in and out rapidly as I tried to calm myself down. _It was just a dream._ But it could so easily be real. _You can handle this. Calm your ass down. The last thing you need is to wake everyone in the goddamn safe room up. _I tried to slow my breathing and forget what I had just seen, but the utter blackness surrounding me made that absolutely impossible. Every image I had just seen was projected into the darkness, slowly unraveling vital threads in my already bent mind.

I clasped my arms around my chest protectively and rocked myself back and forth. My mind tried to keep up a comforting litany in my head. _Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. Justadream…_

It wasn't working. I couldn't truly believe what I was telling myself. I could so easily imagine my dream being an extension of reality. Hell, it wasn't even the worst thing that could happen…

_Stop. Just stop. You're making it worse! _

What if _some _of them were immune?

_You know you're going to regret this._

What if they knew what was happening? What if they _knew _what they were becoming?

_Shut up, already!_

Oh, _God_. What if they tried to come down and _get _me?

_For the love of God, shut the _fuck _up!_

I was screaming mentally. I had to bury my face in the dingy fabric of my sleeping bag to muffle the little noises I was making. I was struck by a feeling of falling, falling into some deep dark pit full of assorted poisonous insects. The world didn't feel stable anymore. It was shaking violently, undergoing an evil metamorphosis as it did.

_Earth to dumbass, _you're _the one that's shaking. Lay down, go back to bed. There's nothing you can do!_

I managed to slow my shaking, but couldn't lose the feeling of falling, or the feeling of a rising wave of insanity threatening to drown me. I was struck by the realization that I couldn't do this by myself. If I stuffed anything else in the dark corner of my mind, I was pretty sure my head would explode.

I rose silently to my feet and silently padded across the hard floor. Only sheer dumb luck prevented me from stepping on anyone.

_That's it…just get a drink of water and go back to sleep…_

I stopped hesitantly next to Ellis' sleeping form.

_Wait a second. What in the hell are you doing?_

I couldn't deal with this on my own. I needed help.

_Oh, no you don't! Back off, go back to sleep. You can take care of yourself, damn it!_

I knelt conclusively in front of Ellis, ignoring my own mental protests. Quiet, logic. You have no place here.

I didn't really have the heart to wake him up. It was so damn difficult to get a moment's rest in our situation. I wasn't about to begrudge someone what little sleep they could get just so I could break down on them. Instead, I lay down shakily on the floor, warm tears continuing to spill quietly down my face. I resolved to spend the night like this if I needed to.

That resolution lasted about five minutes.

A frigid breeze wafted innocently through the barred door, raising patches of goose skin on my arms and back. Shivers accentuated my nightmare-driven shaking. I made an effort not to chatter my teeth. I eyed the sleeping bag in front of me longingly.

_Don't even think about it, genius. _I lay there for another few moments, hovering in indecision between sucking it up and returning to my own sleeping bag and trying to sneak into Ellis'. Before I could come to a conclusion, Ellis shifted, starting to wake up. _Now look what you've done! _I made a move to get up, making it to my knees before he completely awoke.

"'s time to take over already?" he asked sleepily. I shook my head, not trusting my voice. I realized he probably couldn't see the motion in the dark. I took a shuddery breath.

"No," I croaked. There was more shuffling as he sat up completely.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice laced with concern. That did it. I couldn't hold it together anymore. My body jerked with a choked back sob, fresh tears joining the drying old ones. Warm arms drew me in. I felt myself go limp against Ellis's chest. He cradled me like a child, rocking back and forth comfortingly.

"Th-they're all gone…" I whispered almost unconsciously.

"What're you talkin' about?" he asked softly.

"All gone…" I repeated nonsensically. My body tensed at a sudden realization, "All gone…and I killed them…" I curled my body into as tight a ball as I could manage, trying desperately to shut out everything and everyone else. Insanity held temporarily at bay, I began to be consumed by irrational guilt. _I could've dealt with this by myself…why the hell did I tell anyone? I should just leave before I make things worse…_I squirmed reluctantly in Ellis' arms, mumbling things that were supposed to convey that I was fine now and my hysterics were stupid and unnecessary,

"…never...mind…being…stupid…" Of course, I was as eloquent as ever and just as convincing. I was drawn deeper into his grip. I didn't do much to fight it.

"No, you're not," he reassured me, "Now what're you talkin' about? Who's gone?" It took me another few minutes to calm myself to the point of coherent speech. It took another several to convince myself that I _should _talk. My hands clenched into tight fists. Part of me insisted I remain silent; I had done enough damage already without adding _more _of my psychotic nonsense. The other part was sick of having no one to _really _talk to; besides, I would only make things worse by ignoring them. Logic and years of mental practice versus intuition and doubt. In the end, for probably the first time, intuition won out. I took a long, shaky breath, and began haltingly,

"My family…they're dead. They have to be. There's no way in _hell_…they could make it to an evac station with everyone. And _that's _assuming they're all immune," I laughed humorlessly, "No one in my family knows how to shoot except my dad…and Brooke's only _eleven_…" I took another breath and shook my head rapidly, "No way. No way in hell they survived. I never should've left…should've just stayed put like any other year, but I had to _have a real break_," my tone turned mocking and desperate as I finished. In that moment I truly loathed myself, not just for the trivial matter of losing composure and control, but for abandoning the people I loved.

There was a long pause. Impossibly, I was managing to calm down. I took a few deep, meditational breaths, hoping to empty my mind to the point of numbness. I was jarred from my meditation and jumped irrationally when I felt something touch my hand. I looked down. Ellis' hand was clasped around one of my fists, thumb stroking it in a soothing motion. His other hand held one of the unopened water bottles. With an effort, I relaxed my hands from their fists and reached for the bottle and gratefully took a drink. Ellis was the first to break the silence,

"You don't know that," he said firmly. I swallowed and put the bottle down.

"Don't know what?" I croaked.

"That they're dead," he said simply. I couldn't help snorting.

"That's completely ridiculous. From what I can tell, the five of us were the last human beings in Savannah. Five…out of, what? A hundred thousand?" my voice broke a little, but I quickly got it back under control, "Not a _chance_." Despite my basically saying there was no way anyone we had ever known could have survived, Ellis seemed unfazed. He just shook his head,

"But you didn't actually _see_ anything. You don't know for sure…so there's no point in thinking the worst, right?" _Frigging optimists._ I smiled wanly,

"Sure there is. Best part about pessimism. You're either always right, or pleasantly surprised." Ellis frowned.

"That's not funny." I shrugged.

"Didn't say it was. It's a hell of a lot easier to prepare for the worst than to get your hopes up." _Fuck. Here come the waterworks again. _I wiped my face violently with my palms, wincing as I ground salt into my wounds. At least this time it was practically silent. It was pitch black in the safe room; no one would be able to see my redoubled breakdown. Another long pause. It would appear neither of us knew what to do with me.

"Betcha anything we'll find 'em in the safe zone," he said almost completely seriously. I smiled sarcastically and rolled my eyes with a small laugh. There were a couple of _huge _assumptions in that statement. One, my family was completely intact, alive, and safe. I had already proven to myself that was complete bullshit. Two, all of _us _would make it to the safe zone. I was fairly certain that was impossible. Who knew how long it would take for us to find another chance at rescue? Despite all this, I was sick of thinking too much, so I went along with it. The corners of my mouth quirked upward in a more genuine smile.

"You're on," I said, "And if I win…" I paused for a moment, trying to think of an appropriate wager. I was half thinking of demanding the last package of Reese's in the cupboard, but decided against it. It would probably get ruined before we were rescued. Suddenly, a different idea occurred to me, one that was completely ridiculous. But, hell, the game we were playing was ridiculous and insane in and of itself…why shouldn't I come up with something similar? I cleared my throat dramatically and put on my best poker face, "If I'm right, I get your hat."

"Seriously?"

"Completely." I cut the word off with a long, drawn out yawn. "Your turn," I said when I managed to stop. "What do you want…on the off chance you're right about this?" I clarified.

"I'll…uh…have to think about that one," he answered, blushing vocally.

"That's fine," I said, fighting back another yawn, "I know 'm right…" I didn't have the energy to keep up coherent conversation anymore. I let my eyes slide shut and let myself relax. Like before, it wasn't much different than having them open. But this time, no ghosts projected into the darkness. It would appear my past had decided to lay off for the night.


	11. Under Pressure

"_Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking…"_

I woke feeling incredibly warm. _I think I might have actually _slept _last night. How novel. _Despite feeling well-rested for once, I kept my eyes firmly shut. A moment this calm was increasingly rare. The apocalypse would still be there in another fifteen minutes, right? There was a nagging feeling of discomfort in the back of my head, but I couldn't entirely place it. I assumed it was just my conscious self reminding me of the end of the world. I resolved to ignore it, allowing myself to relax to the rhythmic thrumming under my head…

Of course, the others just _had _to pick that moment to start moving around. _Damn you people. If you would have just sat on your respective asses for five more minutes, I wouldn't be guilted into waking up. _

I cracked my eyes open and was immediately disoriented. It was readily apparent I was not in my usual secluded corner. Beyond that, it was suddenly obvious I wasn't even in my own _sleeping bag_. I opened my eyes all the way and my suspicions were proven true. I was stuffed in the same sleeping bag as Ellis, my head pillowed on his chest and my right hand fisting his shirt. Shit. I must've fallen asleep after I'd gotten up last night…

Oh. _Shit_.

_Ah. So you're listening to logic again? What in the hell is wrong with you? Hell, you can completely disregard the fact that you couldn't hold yourself together, do you realize what this _looks _like?_

Before I could completely organize my thoughts, I was interrupted by Rochelle. She didn't say anything, just stared at me for a minute, smiled conspiratorially, and winked. Actually fucking _winked_. That really pissed me off. She realized why I'd, for lack of a better term, slept with Ellis, and she found that funny? I casually raised an eyebrow,

"What?" I asked casually, "I was cold." She shook her head and visibly suppressed a snort.

"Heh. Oh please…" she mumbled as she walked away. I rolled my eyes. I only hoped she'd keep my night of blithering idiocy to herself…

_You're a moron. You seriously think that's what she's thinking? Let me put this to you in simple terms, okay? What would be the first thought to jump in your head if you saw Nick and Rochelle sharing a sleeping bag?_

What the hell are you…oh. Oh. _Oh. _

Suddenly, I was in quite a hurry to get up. If Coach and Nick were still asleep, maybe I could save myself some embarrassment.

As I tried to move, I realized just how cramped a sleeping bag was for two people. _How in the hell did Ellis manage to get both of us in here?_ I wiggled a little more, managing to free a couple more inches of myself._ If I could only get my arm out, maybe I could reach the zipper…shit, with all the jerking around I'm doing…_

I glanced over at Ellis, sincerely hoping I hadn't woke him up. _My God, he could sleep through a goddamn tank attack…_I continued my earthworm-like efforts until I managed to free a shoulder. _Yes! Just a little farth-hey!_ In my haste to escape, I hadn't consciously realized Ellis' arm was still wrapped securely around my waist. And, likely as some half-asleep knee-jerk reaction, my attempt to get up was only making that arm tighter, which would definitely _not _help my case if anyone else decided to wake up now…

So, I had a choice to make. Either I continued to struggle out of the sleeping bag like a deranged centipede or I woke Ellis up so I could leave without any further restraint. _So much for subtlety. _I sighed in resignation and gently shook his shoulder.

"Hey, wake up," I whispered, hoping not to direct further undue attention to my dilemma, "_Ellis_…" Ellis muttered a little in his sleep and started to roll over. _Oh, no you don't!_ I tried and failed to keep him from rolling all the way over. "_Mmph_…" I complained, "_Ellis!_" There was some more half-asleep groaning, but no concrete sign of consciousness. "Wake _up_, damn it!" For whatever reason, that finally seemed to do the trick.

"Kate?" he asked, sleepy and somewhat confused.

"Good…morning?" I answered, idly wondering what time it actually was. There was an awkward pause. With no sign of him getting up so I could breathe again. I cocked an eyebrow and coughed pointedly.

"_Oh_," he said in sudden realization, _finally _rolling the bag into a less bone-crushing position, "Sorry 'bout that…" I took in a long breath of air before answering,

"No problem." Without another word, he slipped easily out the other side of the sleeping bag. _Of course, the damn zipper would _have_ to be on his side, wouldn't it? _I propped myself up on one elbow and impulsively touched his arm before he completely stood up.

"Ellis?" I started nervously, "Can we talk about something?" His face was a perfect blend of concern and confusion as he nodded. I quickly stood and scanned the rest of the safe house like a bad spy. Coach was hopefully fiddling with the stove, Rochelle was digging through the cupboards, and Nick was making slow progress away from the one separate room of the building. _Perfect_. I nodded to myself and strode to the now empty bedroom purposefully, Ellis following close behind.

Supremely annoyed at the lack of a door, I sat on the far corner of the bed and gathered my thoughts. I needed to get this right the first time, as painlessly as possible. I took a deep breath,

"Look, I'm really sorry about last night," I started awkwardly. Ellis' eyebrows knit together.

"The hell're you talkin' about?" I sighed and started ticking items off of my mental list and my fingers simultaneously.

"Waking you up, breaking down like a pussy…"

"No reason to apologize for _that_," he interrupted, "I don't mind." I allowed myself a small smile.

"I…_do_ mind doing that," I began, "I feel weak when I push my problems off on someone else. Especially now. There's no time for that. Damn it, I'm _stronger _than that…" I wasn't entirely sure who I was talking to anymore. Ellis sat on the bed next to me and reached for my hand. I placed both of my hands in my lap as subtly as I could manage. _Nope. Can't go and do that again. Best to nip weakness in the bud…_But my movement didn't really deter him all that much. He frowned and drew an arm around my shoulders. Distracted momentarily, I rolled my eyes. _Allowing this might be sending a counterproductive message…but on the other hand, it's a hell of a lot easier to blatantly lie when the other party can't see your face…_

"Hey, we all go down, right?" he asked. I laughed humorlessly.

"Some more so than others." Ellis sighed heavily.

"You really have to stop thinkin' like that."

"Would if I could…" I sighed again, "Look, I'm useless enough as it is. I'm slow. I can't shoot anything bigger than a pistol, and even with _that _I can't aim to save my life." My lips twisted into a rueful smile.

"But what about…"

"I'm not finished," I continued ruthlessly, "I'm injured. I don't know a damn thing about first aid. The only thing I can outgun anyone in this building on is calculus. _Real _useful." I paused shortly, mentally wondering if I had forgotten anything. "All in all, I'm a liability as it is. If I can't prove myself physically, I'm gonna have to suck it up and be stronger mentally."

"You ain't useless," he assured me, "What about that thing with the spitter goo and the baking soda?"

"Lucky guess." Something was slowly dawning on me, but I couldn't quite figure out what…

"And what about…" Then it hit me.

"_Aw,_ _fuck_…" I exclaimed softly.

"What?"

"I'm doing the same damn thing again aren't I?" I shook my head and wiggled free of Ellis' grip. "I _really _have to stop doing this. I can't keep vocalizing every little bit of melodrama that's ever crossed my mind…" Ellis' expression cleared as he realized what I was saying. He looked me in the eye.

"You can tell me anything, ya know," he said earnestly. I had to smile at his intensity.

"I know," I said briefly, "but the thing is, I shouldn't _have _to." I needed to cut this conversation short before people, specifically Rochelle, started wondering where the two of us had gotten off to. I shook my head. "Look, I'd really appreciate if you kept what happened last night between the two of us." He looked taken aback by the idea.

"Course I will," he promised, "But…you need to let me know if somethin' like that happens again. Somethin' you can't deal with. Can't handle the end of the world by yourself." _Got that right. _He hesitated a moment, "Can you promise me you'll tell me if it happens again?"

"I promise," I said, pausing just long enough to make it sound like the truth. After all, I wasn't planning on _needing _help dealing with anything like that again. Well, to be perfectly honest, I wasn't planning on _telling _anyone…

_Little white lie for the win._

*/*/*/*/*

The days following my breakdown, I first tried to resume my routine of avoiding everyone and staying in my corner. As it turned out, Ellis wouldn't let me. Every time I would sneak off to be alone, he would sit right next to me and start talking about nothing in particular. It was obvious he was either trying to keep me sufficiently distracted so as to prevent further mental breakdowns or he suspected I wouldn't tell him when another bout of weakness came on.

He was right on both counts, but it didn't mean I had to be happy about it.

What he was doing was the perfect preventative delay to my problems, but it also reinforced my feeling of mental weakness. No one else required 'round the clock monitoring in order to keep their sanity. If I was going to be logical, I knew that distractions now were better than breakdowns later, but I couldn't help feeling a little annoyed at all the attention. It was completely illogical of course, but at least illogical was a significant improvement over borderline insane.

After a couple hours, I decided to just go with it. It was obvious Ellis was willing to keep this up forever, so there wasn't much a point in being a pissy little bitch about it.

It didn't seem to matter much that I rarely contributed to the conversations. Hell, I even _fell asleep _in the middle of his sentences a couple times. Personally, I blamed it on the humidity. _Fuck the swamp._ Once, I even caught Rochelle and Nick taking bets on how long it would take him to notice. How they were _timing_ anything was beyond me…

Oddly enough, the time the five of us spent in the safe house reminded me a lot of orientation. There was really nothing better to do than talk, and no one wanted to talk about the present or the likely limited future. So we talked about the past, occasionally an uncomfortable subject given we had lost most of what we remembered.

I was fairly certain it was the only time a "getting to know you" exercise had ever been worthwhile. It occurred to me that I should really be a lot more grateful for the people fate had thrown me in with. I knew there were people out there who would gladly take advantage of the apocalypse. I wasn't naïve…okay, I wasn't _that _naïve anyway. I could've been lumped in with a bunch of psychos returning to the Dark Ages, embracing the end of the world and the anarchy it provided.

Instead, I had ended up with something rare: four people I could trust. It had only been a few days, but those few days had been in the middle of a warzone. Time had a different significance there and no one had any legitimate excuse to hide anything. Granted our relationships were largely dysfunctional, but they had already become impossible to break.

*/*/*/*/*

About a week after we first stopped in the safe house, Nick was declared sufficiently healed by Coach (how much experience did he really have with chemical burn injuries, anyway?) and we prepared to move out once again. To be honest, it was a relief. There had been far too much emotional stress in the past week with no cathartic outlet. At least there weren't any further nightmares. I had enough fuel for impending insanity without visual aids.

As soon as we left the safe house, I threw myself into my work, a perverse antidote to cabin fever. My intensity was bordering on manic, which worried me. It couldn't be healthy to use zombie murder as a distraction. Beyond that, contrary to what years of video games had taught me, being angry does _not _make one fight better. All I managed to do was waste a crap-load of ammo. Any stray bullets that connected with anything were purely coincidental.

"Damn," Nick commented, "You _suck _at shooting." I glared at him unimpressively. Okay, the comment was definitely warranted (I'd just missed a limping common four times in a row before someone else took care of it), but it didn't stop me from being irrationally pissed off. _Hey, dumbshit! Get your act together! You're going to end up shooting someone! _Fair point.

I stalked off in front of the others, figuring even _I _couldn't manage to shoot someone directly behind me. I fully realized I was being a jackass, but I was too on edge to care. I focused on the sound of my footfalls on the wooden walkway and ignored the warnings behind me. _Thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk thunk._

I was so intent on ignoring everyone, I didn't notice the telltale coughing and wheezing from somewhere in front of me. Before I could snap out of it, the smoker's tongue shot out and wrapped around my ribs, crushing my arms to my sides. My hands popped open at the pressure and my pistols clattered off the walkway into the murky water below. I managed to release one good scream before the tongue tightened completely and dragged me roughly forward.

I heard indistinct yelling behind me as I was pulled off the walkway. I felt the impact of the water shudder up my legs and was distantly thankful the ground wasn't dry; I could have easily broken my legs otherwise. Ironically, my mental fog cleared up as soon as the smoker's hand connected with my body. _You feel that? That's déjà vu. That's what you get for wandering off on your own, moron! Remember?_

Two shotgun blasts echoed painfully above my head. The smoker's grip loosened and I fell forward, narrowly catching myself before I collapsed entirely. I crouched with my hands on my knees while I tried to regain my breath. The ringing in my ears slowly faded away and my coughing and wheezing stopped altogether. I stood completely, pointlessly wiping my hands on my soaked jeans.

"…_tryin' _to get yourself killed?" Ellis seemed annoyed. _He has a damn good reason. _I wrung my hair out as I answered,

"Of course not," I said exasperatedly. _I was trying to make sure I didn't accidentally shoot any of you guys actually. _

"The hell was all that about then?" he asked in confusion. I bit the inside of my cheek and remained silent. _I'm completely fucked up, but if I let any of you see that, I'm going to hate myself. I'm really trying my best not to fall apart, but I'm coming across as useless and psychotic. You might as well have left me to the smoker. I'm only going to get someone hurt. _Frustrated tears pooled in my eyes. I was immediately thankful for the water dripping down my face. Ellis' voice lowered, even though the others were obviously waiting back on the walkway,

"You okay?" I snorted and laughed a little hysterically. _Stop it. You can do this. _How? _I don't know, fly casual!_ I took a deep breath before answering.

"You know, for being pulled throughshit water by a zombie tongue, I'm just peachy," I half smiled as I spoke, going for a look of self-deprecating humor. I hopefully checked my sides for my guns and let out an exasperated breath. "Except I managed to lose my gun _again_." Ellis didn't seem completely convinced, but didn't push me into a confession.

"There's probably somethin' on the walkway," he said optimistically. _Yeah, and with my luck it'll be something huge that I can't handle. Like a shotgun. Or a grenade launcher. If anyone lets me get my hands on one of those, I will rest assured I'm not the only insane member of our party._ I scanned the desolate landscape around me, willing a weapon to appear. I caught a glint of metal in my peripheral vision and cautiously splashed over to a decrepit tree, mentally crossing my fingers. _Score! _The mystery object turned out to be a machete. Something I wouldn't have to shoot? It was a goddamn _miracle_. Ellis splashed up beside me.

"What're you doin'?" he asked nervously. I contemplated the best way to remove my prize from its prison before responding.

"Nothing like before," I reassured him, "but you might wanna stand back a little…" Ellis glanced at the situation briefly and stepped back. I gripped the handle of the weapon and gingerly started to wiggle it free. After about ten seconds of that, I grew impatient and yanked on the handle, freeing it with an obnoxious scrape. I grinned as I brandished my newfound weapon. I had the oddest urge to giggle; the whole scene reminded me entirely too much of King Arthur and Excalibur.

Despite my much improved mood, Ellis was still looking at me as if I would…I don't know…blow up or something. I supposed I had some explaining to do. I wasn't exactly making the best case that I didn't need to be babysat. That wasn't exactly the root cause of my irrational behavior, but it was certainly a part of it. I was sick of constantly being the damsel in distress. I was better than that. I smiled a little sheepishly,

"I solemnly promise to explain what the hell is going on as _soon_ as we get out of here." Granted, it might not be the entire explanation, but there was no point having him worry about it. The last thing we needed was for someone to be distracted, as I had just conclusively proven. Since he still didn't look entirely convinced, I raised my left pinkie and smiled, "Seriously." I couldn't blame him for laughing at the gesture. I was fairly certain I hadn't used it since grade school. Nonetheless, he shouldered his weapon and curled his pinkie around mine.

"Okay," I said as we broke apart, "Now how about getting the hell out of here?" We were interrupted by the gurgling screech of a lone common. I grinned widely, anticipating the chance to take Excalibur for a test run. "Dibs!" I called, running quickly to the zombie. I raised my newfound weapon and slashed it across the creature's neck, which promptly disconnected from its body. I stared, frozen in amazement as the body and head fell with two distinct splashes.

"Holy shit…" Ellis said, drawing out the words comically. He watched me for a reaction. A genuine smile spread across my face as the full realization of what I'd just done hit me.

"_Hell _yes!" I exclaimed enthusiastically. Now _this _was something I could use!

By the time we finally came back to relatively dry land, the others were getting impatient.

"Took you long enough," Nick commented, raising an eyebrow, "What the hell are you so happy about?" I didn't answer. Instead, I grinned and brandished my machete. "Oh for _Christ's_ sake! As if the goddamn zombies weren't bad enough…" Rochelle elbowed him reproachfully and I fought back the insane urge to giggle. Now _everyone _was looking at me like they expected me to go off the deep end again. I shrugged and pointedly took up the rear of the group.

"I figure the rest of you would prefer to keep your limbs?" I asked wryly.

*/*/*/*/*

We encountered the horde again once Nick _insisted _on lowering a rusty old bridge to avoid reentering the swamp water. Evidently we hadn't learned our lesson about walking _around_ potentially noisy objects whenever feasible. I couldn't bring myself to get _too _annoyed though. I was aching for an excuse to use my machete again. Bloodlust was a foreign emotion, but it was a welcome change.

This time, when the horde came screaming for our blood, I was ready for them. Instead of acting as ineffective backup, I excelled. I slashed through the horde with lethal force, heads and blood flying. I fully expected the exhilarating rush of adrenaline through my body, but what I didn't expect was how…_giddy _the fight made me feel. The fear wasn't gone by any means, but it took a back seat to illogical, genuine happiness. Contagious laughter spilled from my lips as the heads and blood flew around me. If nothing else, I wasn't the only outwardly insane member of our group.

Ellis had found a chainsaw. By the sounds of it, he was enjoying the _hell _out of himself.

Needless to say we had both been relegated to positions well away from the others. Frankly, given our proximity, I was shocked we hadn't managed to kill each other. With the chaos surrounding us, it was impossible to constantly keep tabs on my teammates. In my manic state, it was difficult to bring myself to care much. All that mattered was moving, incapacitating the most significant threat as quickly as possible before moving on to my next priority. Adrenaline was an amazing little hormone.

When the crowd thinned, I couldn't help noticing how gruesome I looked. The part of me I could see was covered in an apron of fresh blood. Undoubtedly, some of it was mine, though I wasn't particularly bothered by any new injuries. Ellis appeared to be in much the same situation. Chainsaws didn't exactly make for clean killing. I wiped a swath of my arm semi-clean, debating diving into the swamp to clean up. Nick stared at us openly as we regrouped. He, Rochelle, and Coach had managed to come out of the fight in at least visibly better shape. _The hell do they expect? You jackasses have _guns._ It's not exactly easy to keep your nose clean with a melee weapon._

Oh, wait…there was a _reason _for lowering that bridge, wasn't there? I suppressed a grin…and casually flicked some zombie bits off my machete…directly at Nick.

"Well, at least you managed to keep clean, Armani," I quipped. Nick dodged the flying goo and swore vehemently, unable to decide on an insult good enough for me. I smiled innocently. "What's wrong, Nick? Didn't you say brains come out?" I was rewarded with a sudden outbreak of barely suppressed laughter.

"You realize I hate you…" Nick said, scowling more than usual. I nodded seriously.

"Fully."


	12. Riot

"_You're not the only one refusing to go down…"_

"All right, all right," Coach said finally, "cut that shit out." I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing, rolled my eyes, and nodded solemnly. It was almost too bad it had to end. I had just found that threatening to towel my bloody hands off on Nick's jacket made him move _really _fast…

It didn't take us long to reach the next safe room. The air still carried the sour smell of the swamp, but it was obvious we were finally done with Dagobah. The exit showed dry land for once. That was definitely a good sign. I could swear I remembered something about a disease you could get from having wet feet for too long…

This safe room was a lot more barren than our previous accommodations. The walls were stark, mostly because they lacked the typical graffiti. The only piece of furniture was the table supporting a few spare clips of ammo. I smugly ran a finger down the back of my machete. _At least I don't have to worry about _that_ anymore._ Instead, I leaned against the wall across from the exit and found myself wondering where in the hell we were going.

Back at Whispering Oaks, we had at least had a rough plan at this point. Now we were just blindly flailing through the swamp, crossing our fingers for some sort of rescue. _It's not as if we have another option. We don't have any viable form of communication with whatever's left of the outside world and we were starting to run low on food. Staying in one place is tantamount to voluntarily starving to death. _True. I much preferred being killed by zombies to taking weeks to starve to death. If I was going to die, I wanted to get it over with.

My thoughts had taken a disturbingly gruesome turn. I blinked slowly and took in a long breath, wiping the thoughts from my mind. Morbidity was almost to be expected in our situation, but it _was_ counterproductive. I could only concentrate on one thing at a time, and, if I wanted to stay alive given the state of the world, that thing damn well better be killing zombies.

I made an effort to gain a sturdier mentality. There was really no point worrying about dying. The time to prepare for something like this had passed and there was nothing I could do to change that. Time travel wasn't possible. Dead or alive, I would eventually get through this. I just had to do the best I could with the time I had left. Really, it was a lot like taking a test. I smiled slightly. Now _that _was something I could deal with. Use whatever you know to do the best you can, regardless of how well you were prepared. So the zombie apocalypse was like a pop quiz with the world's largest stakes.

_Something has to be seriously wrong with your head if you're coming up with _that. _I'm pretty sure that was the world's lamest metaphor._

No it wasn't. It was the world's lamest _simile._ I'd used "like".

*/*/*/*/*

Within a few minutes we were back on our way. There was really no point in resting when we'd just spent a week at the last safe house.

The small town seemed unusually quiet. Personally, I couldn't decide whether that was a good or a bad sign. Either we'd already wiped out most of the zombies in the area, which was entirely plausible given the amount of humans one would typically find in a damn swamp, or there was a crap pile of zombies waiting to ambush us somewhere. Given my luck, I suspected it was the latter scenario. But, really, what was I going to do to prevent that anyway? _You're not gaining anything by thinking about it…uh…_optimism_?_ Not exactly _my _department…

Everyone remained completely silent. I suppose we were trying to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. Or perhaps there was a simpler explanation. We were all trying desperately not to jinx ourselves here. Nonetheless, the silence was not a comfortable one. The setting gave me a twofold feeling of discomfort. The buildings around me made me feel closed in, surrounded and claustrophobic and the sun finally rising on the horizon gave me an uncomfortable and illogical feeling of exposure.

_C'mon, now. Video game mentality. Check if there's anything useful in those houses instead of getting creeped out by them. _It was a little hard to think that way when you knew you would actually _feel _when the monsters you were hunting attacked you, when you knew everything you did had a _real_ consequence, when you were fully aware that you wouldn't start over when you died…

_You are quite possibly the most obnoxious person on the planet. Cry me a river, build a bridge, get over it._

Fuck you, brain.

Eventually, we came to the back of an old plantation house. Truth be told, it was a complete wreck. The first room we entered had a gaping hole in the floor, showing a few commons milling about below. The other four picked them off easily before dropping to the next floor. I looked at the splintered edge of the gaping hole doubtfully before sticking my machete in my belt. I shrugged and gripped the edge of the floor, swinging for a second before landing clumsily. I examined my hands clinically and was amazed at the lack of visible splinters.

As we explored the rest of the house, I was surprised at the stockpile of supplies scattered around the building. From the stains on the floor and walls, I guessed this place had been the scene of some sort of last stand. There was a shelf filled with an assortment of bile bombs, Molotovs, and pipe bombs on the first floor. A pile of ammo and combat shotguns sat on a landing. Oddest of all, there was a goddamn _minigun_ mounted on the upper balcony, which Nick and Ellis immediately proceeded to squabble over. Admittedly, it was quite entertaining. It was reminiscent of a pair of preschoolers fighting over a toy. I smiled slightly and shook my head at the display.

It appeared I was the only one enjoying the situation, though. Coach and Rochelle both looked thoroughly annoyed. As Coach finally looked like he was going to step in, Rochelle rolled her eyes and stepped between the two, placing a possessive hand on the gun.

"Problem solved," she said briefly. There was a brief pause as what had just happened sunk in.

"Oh come _on_!" Nick complained. Rochelle raised an eyebrow challengingly,

"Seriously? I've been stuck with this damn SMG since Whispering Oaks!" Rochelle's tone left no room for doubt. She was _pissed _and she wasn't about to back down on this. Ellis, seeming to know not to poke the bear, quickly backed off. I couldn't suppress a smirk. Nick, on the other hand, wasn't about to give up without a fight,

"Look, sweetheart, _all of us_ have been in exactly the same…"

"Oh, _bullshit_. You remember that grenade launcher back at the mall?"

"It had _one _shell in-"

"Or damn near every goddamn grenade we've ever found?"

It was like watching a tennis match…a rather one-sided one. The way they were having at it, the fight over that stupid minigun probably would have lasted _hours _if Coach hadn't stepped in,

"Well, me, Ellis, and Kate are gonna go check if there's a way outta here. We'll leave you two to your flirtin'." Well, _that _finally seemed to shut them up. I snorted. It was a classic adult trick…if you want a couple of people to shut the hell up, imply that they like each other. I'd never seen it fail. Usually the accused got too busy denying everything to continue the original argument. It was ingenious, really.

I flashed them a sarcastic grin before leaving, temporarily forgetting my own advice not to poke the bear. Before the three of us were out of sight, Rochelle cocked an eyebrow at me and half smiled. _What the hell? Okay…I might need a translation on that one_. For some reason, it almost reminded me of elementary school…I know you are, but what am I?

*/*/*/*/*

The front yard of the house looked even worse. Bodies in varying stages of decomposition littered the grass. Quite a few showed bite marks. A couple of happily colored tricycles were parked in front of the house, serving as a gruesome contrast. It was almost worse seeing the abandoned, blood speckled toys on the lawn than the dead bodies. I never really had a chance to think of the impact the infection would have had on the rest of the world, let alone children. Come to think of it, we hadn't really seen any kids since we set out from that highway back in Georgia. I frowned. The last thing I needed was to kill little zombie children. I had enough blood on my hands, literal and figurative, as it was. I shook my head and kept moving. There wasn't anything we could do for them now.

Carefully sidestepping the gore in the yard, we made our way to the gates at the end of the path. My heart jumped into my throat when I realized what was sitting directly to the left of the gate: a radio. _Okay, seriously, don't fuck with me, fate. If this thing doesn't work, I swear…_Coach stepped forward and fiddled with the dials on the old radio, eventually causing it to burst into blessed static. I allowed myself a small mental fist pump. _It actually works! For once, something actually fucking works!_ Coach cleared his throat and spoke into the radio,

"Anyone out there?" There was a pregnant pause as we waited for a response. Every moment the static continued was absolute torture. Finally, the white noise broke,

"Woo, hello there," The voice on the other end had a distinct Cajun accent and sounded oddly cheerful considering the circumstances, "I ain't heard a nobody out here in a long time…what can I do for ya?" There was a slight pause as the significance of our discovery sunk in. We weren't the last ones alive…we had solid proof of that now. "Hey now, where're you at?" the voice asked again, some of the cheerfulness fading to worry. Coach seized the speaker again,

"We're at the big house," he said clearly.

"All right, real good," the new survivor responded, "I'm comin' for ya now. Stay right where y'all are." The sound of the radio crackled back into static and for a minute, none of us could do much more than stare blankly at the radio. Our moment of triumph was cut off by the distant sound of an approaching horde.

"Shit!" Coach swore, wheeling back toward the house, "Let's get back to Nick 'n Ro." We jogged back to the relative safety of the plantation house. When we got back to the balcony, Coach announced our find to the rest of the team. Nick, for one, seemed skeptical,

"Yeah, sure. And just _how _is this guy planning on picking us up?" Much as I hated to admit it, that was actually a good point.

"Helicopter, maybe?" Ellis offered. Nick scoffed.

"Right. Because that worked out _so _well the last time…"

"Oh, drop it already!" Rochelle snapped, mowing down the frontrunners of the horde with the minigun.

"Probably just another jackass from CEDA…" Nick grumbled, turning toward one of the doorways. I had an intense urge to punch him. Figuring that probably wouldn't be wise when he was starting to shoot at the approaching zombies, I settled for an eye roll instead.

"Well, he didn't _sound _like CEDA…" I snapped.

"Really? And just what does CEDA sound like?"

"Fuck off." I didn't really have time for a more eloquent response. I needed to focus on the threat at hand. This was a _very_ literal application of choosing one's battles. "Did anyone ever grab those bombs from downstairs?" The answer was obvious. I rolled my eyes again. _Why didn't we just grab some on the way upstairs? _I darted for the stairs. "Be right back!" I called in a mock-cheerful tone.

Almost as soon as I set foot on the stairs, I found my path blocked by a bubbling pool of spitter goo. I swore and stepped clumsily onto the base of the railing, gripping the banister for dear life. I could see the ugly little spitter bitch watching me. For the first time since I'd abandoned my pistols, I sincerely wished for a gun. My machete was completely useless in this scenario. I wasn't quite sure what it was waiting for. I was a sitting duck. _Maybe they need to reload too? _Terrific.

I shoved my machete into my belt and hoisted myself onto the railing, somewhat amused I was actually using sliding down a railing as an escape tactic. My hip hit the knob at the end of the banister hard and I lost my balance, tipping forward unceremoniously on the hardwood floor. I noticed the sickly green acid dripping down the stairs toward me and rolled out of the way inelegantly. There was a deafening bang.

I sprang to my feet just in time to see the spitter collapse in a pool of brilliant green. _Well, that takes care of that, I suppose…_I jogged over to the shelves housing the bombs single-mindedly. I gathered the weapons, chiefly bile bombs, into my arms and turned to go upstairs, nearly running over Ellis in the process. I let out a muted scream and felt one of the items in my arms slip from my grasp.

"_Shit!_" I exclaimed. I saw the bile bomb fall almost in slow motion. We both reached for the falling object but only succeeded in cracking our heads. The bomb hit the floor and predictably shattered, spilling its contents on our feet. Ellis started alternating between swearing vehemently and apologizing. I ignored him, focusing instead on the sound of the accelerating horde. I stumbled backward and shifted my load, carefully extracting another bile bomb and handing it to Ellis,

"Throw it!" I yelled, nodding toward the open front door. Ellis hesitated. I didn't really have time to explain, "Just do it!" Ellis finally lobbed the bomb out the door and it shattered on the front steps. I mentally crossed my fingers and booked it for the stairs, "Let's go!" As we reached the top of the stairs, I glanced over my shoulder to see a group of commons clogging the front door and attacking the porch. It was a live reenactment of _The Simpsons' _Three Stooges Syndrome. I couldn't suppress a grin. I'd only meant to divide and conquer…if bile attracts them, why not give them multiple targets?

As soon as we returned to the team, I lay the remaining bombs down carefully and positioned myself near a gap in the fence surrounding the balcony. I peered over the ledge and flinched. We were already being swarmed. Those who made it past the relentless fire of the minigun had started scaling the columns of the house. The first wave was already starting to peer over the edge of the balcony. I delivered a sharp kick to the face of the leader, sending him tumbling to the dirt.

I dispatched the next attacker in the same way as the first. I couldn't help grinning as common after common fell to the ground. It was almost too easy. I hadn't even needed to draw my machete. In a twisted way, it was _quite _enjoyable. After a while, the whole situation transformed into a game. _All I need is theme music…and some sort of badass one liner…_

Backed against the wall of the house, I heard the groaning of wood I associated with another target. I grinned like an idiot and stretched, theatrically fixing my face in a falsely calm expression. _Madness? _I strode over to the edge of the porch,

"_This is Sp_-" I froze as a pair of huge, grotesque arms grasped the railing. Apparently commons weren't the only ones could climb up the damn columns. I stumbled back from the railing and sucked in a long breath, "_Tank!_" Rochelle tried desperately to train her minigun on the tank, but the weapon stayed obstinately out of range. She swore, retrieved her discarded SMG, and fired furiously at the emerging hulk. The rest of the team joined in soon after. I forced myself to move, grabbing a bile bomb and smashing it in front of the tank. A roar erupted from the enraged beast as flecks of sickly green liquid splashed on its pink skin. The effect was immediate. Commons that had been advancing, taking advantage of our obvious distraction, began swarming the tank instead. I dove to the right, avoiding the veritable fire hose.

"Get downstairs!" Coach shouted. I was more than happy to obey. Getting knocked off the second story of a house by a giant zombie was definitely not high on my priority list. I blew a frustrated breath through my nose. _If I would've known that frigging tank would've shown up so damn soon, I wouldn't have bothered running after those damn bombs in the first fucking place! _

I reached the bottom of the stairs slightly out of breath and immediately noticed we were missing someone. A couple someones. In answer to my panic, I caught a flash of movement to the left of the upstairs landing, followed by a _very _angry tank, which was followed by…Nick? _What in the hell…? Queue _Benny Hill_ music…_ I didn't have much time to process what I was seeing. I just had to _react_. Coach and Ellis were already sprinting up the stairs, so I followed, backpedaling so I could slow down the gathering horde at our backs. Using a melee weapon against a healthy tank seemed like a less than stellar idea.

Once we caught up, Coach took the tank out with a well-placed, anticlimactic headshot. The tank's corpse fell forward against a wall, propping there awkwardly. Rochelle scurried out from under the dead zombie, a barely noticeable tremor running through her frame. Coach motioned back downstairs insistently. There wasn't any time to dwell on anything. We sliced and shot our way through the horde until we regained the main floor of the house.

Over the chaos of the fight, a distant foghorn sounded. _A boat! We're surrounded by water and none of us manage to figure that one out? _It was easily one of the most beautiful and welcome sounds I'd heard in my life. Before the boat's arrival could completely sink in, the ground rocked with the force of a huge explosion. My eyes darted toward the sound just in time to see the gate disintegrate.

"_Wow!_" Rochelle exclaimed, "Gate's open!" _No shit, Sherlock. _Almost in answer, the voice from the radio echoed mechanically across the swamp,

"Come on now, they're comin' after ya now. Get on the boat!" Coach motioned toward the demolished gate,

"You heard the man! Let's go!" Right on cue, the ground shook again, this time heralding the arrival of another tank. _Perfect timing. We don't have ammo, we don't have grenades, and most of us are injured. Just. Fucking. Perfect. _A desperate glance passed among the five of us. There was _no_ way we could fight this thing off in our shape. Nick shook his head with a grimace.

"Split up!" he said urgently. It was definitely _not _something I wanted to do, but there wasn't really a choice. The best we could hope for was more time to escape. Nick, Coach, and Rochelle ran down the right hand wall while Ellis and I made a break for the center aisle of the hedges.

I told myself not to look back, but I couldn't help it. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the tank hesitate for a beat before targeting Coach's group. Conflicting feelings of relief and guilt flooded through me, but didn't have a chance to crystallize.

_Another _tank plowed violently through a hedge to our left, roaring madly. As an extension of my waking nightmare, my legs suddenly turned to lead and I froze completely. I was certain I was going to die. I couldn't move and I was stuck directly next to the Incredible Hulk.

But it wasn't going after me.

It was going after Ellis.

I wasn't paralyzed anymore. My legs churned violently as I started chasing the tank. It was quite possibly one of the stupidest things I'd ever done. But logic had nothing to do with it. Something else, instinct, perhaps, had taken over my body and wasn't letting me think. My lips curled upward as the distance between us closed.

"_Hey, Bruce!_" I spat, maybe hoping to create a distraction. _Why in the hell would you spout such an inane one liner _now _of all times?_ I ignored the distraction of thought, whipped my right arm back, and sliced my machete across the monster's back with all the force I could muster. I enjoyed a brief moment of satisfaction before I slipped on the slick ground. The violence of the blow had thrown me off balance. Somehow, I managed to slide on my heels directly under the tank's proportionally small legs, my ankle twisting awkwardly.

I was completely disoriented and had lost my earlier enraged confidence. My feet scrabbled uselessly against the mud. Before I could panic entirely, Ellis grabbed my free hand and pulled me to my feet. I clumsily jerked forward and hit the ground running. My heart slammed against my ribcage uncomfortably at the panicked pace. My breath came in staggered gasps. Above the pounding filling my head I heard a strange cracking from somewhere behind us. I recognized the sound immediately, but didn't dare take the time to turn around.

"_Duck!_" I screamed, bending over in half as I ran. A huge chunk of turf and earth slammed to the ground in front of us, sending up a cloud of choking dust. _Now _that _was some lucky fucking timing! _I held my breath briefly as I jumped onto the section of turf, barely missing a stride. Instinct had taken over completely, invoking a single-minded purpose: flight.

We passed the remains of the gate. The boat was in plain sight, Coach, Rochelle, and Nick shooting from the deck. I summoned up my last reserves of energy and forced my tired legs to pump faster. I couldn't let up now…not when we were so close to escape. Finally, when I thought I couldn't possibly take another step, I heard something heavy fall behind me and I practically fell onto the deck of the boat.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Nick shouted. The boat immediately started churning away from the dock. I collapsed onto my back and closed my eyes, panting with exertion, smiling with relief. I laughed uncontrollably between each staggered breath. I was a little punch drunk.

Sensation slowly crept into the far corners of my body, allowing me to realize I would definitely feel today in the morning. I began to notice the throbbing of my ankle and arm, a general stiffness settling in every pore of my body, and an odd stiffness in my left hand. I sat up completely and turned my head to the side, noticing I was still clasping Ellis' hand for dear life. I looked him in the eye, smiled apologetically and loosened my uncomfortable grip. Ellis smiled back and gave my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. My heart skipped once and I felt heat rise to my face illogically. _Oh shit…_


	13. You May Be Right

"_You may be right, I may be crazy. But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for. Turn out the light. Don't try to save me. You may be wrong, for all I know, but you may be right."_

I pushed, no, _shoved_, my thoughts to the side and staggered drunkenly to my feet. Now was most certainly _not _the time.

The boat rocked to a stop and I heard a firm splash somewhere to my right. The door to the cabin creaked open ponderously and a man who looked around fifty stepped onto the deck. I realized immediately this must be our rescuer, for all intents and purposes, the only other survivor in the tri-state area. He looked us over coolly, wrinkling his nose slightly. I almost grinned. We had been out in the swamp for a week now…I imagined we were pretty ripe. He finished his once-over and nodded to himself.

"Name's Virgil," he said briefly, "Food's just about done. Shower's downstairs if y'all wanna get cleaned up." Apparently, Virgil was not one to mince words. _Wait, shower, food?_ We must've looked pretty ridiculous at the mention of the possibility of getting, dare I say it, _clean_. Virgil smiled very briefly and gestured grandly toward the cabin, "Ladies first." There was an immediate, predictable burst of protest from Nick. I mouthed for Rochelle to go ahead, my intentions not entirely noble. I had just caught a whiff of something frying inside. My stomach snarled viciously as Rochelle snuck downstairs.

I didn't really have much of a choice…my stomach trumped just about everything else. Hot meal versus hot shower? After living on Pop Tarts and Mountain Dew for over a week, hot meal would reign victorious every time.

Nick was finally silenced, mostly due to a pointed glare from Virgil, and the rest of us filed inside the boat's cabin. I almost groaned as the smell of the food hit me like a wave. Beyond that, I could hear the crackling and popping as it cooked. Virgil strode ahead of us and deftly flipped the food onto paper plates. I sat down on one of the bunk beds lining the walls and barely managed to restrain myself when my plate was placed in my lap. _Come on, Kate. Were you raised in a barn? Just a couple more minutes…_

As soon as everyone was served, I dug in with gusto. My first civilized meal in days consisted of a generous portion of fried fish, a biscuit, and a lump of potatoes. As I ate, I wondered vaguely why I had never cared for fish, often going to great lengths to avoid eating it. Compared to my previous diet, the stuff seemed luxurious. It reminded me of my first time voluntarily eating eggs after having my wisdom teeth taken out. I had been too loopy from pain meds to really complain about my mom making them for me. Once I started eating (somewhat sloppily since I couldn't feel the lower half of my face), I realized how _good _it was to eat something with actual _taste._

At that point, it was hardly a stretch of the imagination to think I hadn't really _tasted _food in quite some time. I finished quickly and was in the process of chasing the food down with a full bottle of water when Rochelle emerged from downstairs. She smiled lazily and nodded back the way she came.

"Your turn," she told me. I rose from my seat quickly and started to head downstairs.

"You take more than five minutes, and we're opening the door on you!" Nick called after me. I paused and turned around with an eyebrow raised. I returned to the cabin and delicately picked up my machete.

"Mm-hm," I agreed sarcastically, "If that's the case, I guess I might as well kill two birds with one stone. This thing is _awfully _dirty."

"Is that a threat?"

"Is it?" I smirked and retreated back down the stairs to the sound of a chorus of muted chuckles. I could've sworn I heard Nick join in, albeit reluctantly.

Once I got in the bathroom, I methodically peeled off my clothes, suppressing small bouts of laughter. I couldn't help it. Everything that hadn't been covered up earlier was covered in assorted goo and the rest was bone white. It reminded me of coming in from running through the sprinkler as a kid…except it was a hell of a lot more extreme.

I stared at myself more closely. _Oh, wow. I've definitely seen better days. _ I peeled off my bandages and flinched at the nastier looking scratches. My body was covered in marks ranging from barely visible to nauseating. My hair was a lank, tangled mess, dotted with detritus from the swamp among…ugh…_other _things…

_Doesn't really matter how many horror movies you've watched for kicks, does it? Nothing like real-life experience to show you the delights of other peoples fucking _guts _in your hair._

Gagging a little at the thought, I turned the shower on. _This is gonna sting like a son of a bitch, but at least you'll be clean. _Uncharacteristically, without even bothering to check the temperature of the water, I hopped in and drew the curtain shut.

_Oh…_

As it turned out, the water was perfectly warm…almost hot. I let the water course its way over my legs first, savoring the feel of heat returning. I sucked in a breath and stepped farther in, allowing the water to hit my stomach. My lips pursed at the stinging. _Shit! If the crap on my stomach is causing me this much grief, how in the hell am I going to get my damned arm?_ But it was easily worth it. The grime being carried away down the drain proved that.

I decided to postpone the worst for a while longer, sucked in a breath, and stuck my face directly under the spray. I withdrew a few seconds later, sputtering slightly. _Quit messing around. Time for the main event._ I sighed, sank my teeth into my bottom lip, and stuck my right arm under the water. My mind promptly dissolved into increasingly creative curses, some of which were probably reiterated in vocal form.

Thankfully, the stinging covering most of my body numbed the longer I stood in the shower. The worst of the dirt gone, I reached for the soap and relished the clean smell. Even the simple smell from the harsh bar of green soap was heavenly comparatively. Even _that _was soon trumped by the sweet smell of strawberries from the cheap shampoo. Unfortunately, there was no conditioner to be found, but I didn't dare bitch about that. What was a little tangled hair? I had the basics: soap, shampoo, even a razor. Who was I to complain? I grinned at nothing and whistled carelessly, eventually giving way to some impromptu Billy Joel karaoke. I hadn't been this content for _quite _a while.

I regretfully stepped out of the heavenly shower and did my best to shake myself dry. It didn't even occur to me to complain about the lack of a towel. I pulled on the thin navy tank top and gray sweatpants I'd been given, grabbed my machete, and left the tiny bathroom. My eyelids seemed to gain weight with every step I took. Now that I was clean and fed, fatigue finally decided to make itself known.

I hopefully poked around for something more private than the bunk beds I'd been introduced to upstairs. It didn't take long for me to find it: an almost closet-like space under the stairs I'd come down. Feeling a little like Harry Potter, I nudged the door open and was satisfied to find a slightly rumpled twin mattress stuffed inside the space. I happily dove onto the old mattress, sighing in contentment as I burrowed into the thick blankets.

Of course, now that most of my basic needs were taken care of, reality started to set back in and thought spontaneously restarted.

Most people had some sort of mental defense system, usually characterized by a brick wall. This was not allegedly for the person's own protection. The wall was supposed to be a challenge to determine who was worthy of being in one's confidence. They didn't wish to protect anything. They just wanted to see who cared enough about them to scale the wall.

I wasn't like most people.

Most people had a wall? I had a nuclear bunker, surrounded by an enormous dome a la _The Simpsons_, a thirty foot fence peppered with flamethrowers and topped with a generous roll of razor wire, a pack of velociraptors, and five miles of pure land mines.

Oh, and a moat. With sharks with laser beams attached to their heads.

Thus far, only four people had ever made it past clearance. All of them had received admission for being family. Sure, it was nepotism, but it was the only way I could guarantee a person's admission into my innermost thoughts and fears wouldn't come to bite me in the ass. I had gotten hurt far too many times in the past to let go of a single one of these security measures.

_So…why exactly are you letting him in?_

Um…because I forgot to include measures against tunneling?

_That's seriously what you're going with? _

Okay, so maybe that wasn't quite right. Maybe it was more a matter of the current occupants of my brain bunker were either dead or close enough. It was lonely being on my own…both mentally and physically.

_And that hurts a lot right now, doesn't it? Why let someone in only to end up in the same situation? It's a waste of time, if you ask me._

Actually, I _hadn't_ asked my subconscious about that, thank you _very _much. I couldn't help shuddering at the implication of my thoughts. I was completely right, of course. There was no way in hell all five of us would make it out alive. I was probably one of the least likely to make it back in one piece if I was going to be perfectly honest…but on the off chance that I did, and certain other people didn't…

I didn't know what the hell I would do. Probably go nuts. More nuts. Turn even quieter and let my nightmares slowly eat me away. What was I supposed to do? I was treading the edge of a sword. On either side lay insanity, while the blade itself was my only safe haven. If I withdrew from everyone again, I would lose myself in realistic nightmares about my family. If I stayed the course, I would likely gain something only to have it wrenched from me later. 'Tis better to have loved and lost…

_What the hell did you just say?_

Ah…shit…

_Okay, Kate. Where in the _fuck _did that come from? You think it's bad to lose someone you let in your _head_…but why listen to me? You know, good old _logic._ It's not like I've ever done anything for you before. Follow your gut feeling, right? After all, that has worked in your favor _so _many times in the past. Like that one time when…I mean, maybe when…no…hmm…not that one…wow, you really fucked _that _one up…_

Wow. I needed to get away from myself. And I thought Nick was bad…

But there was still a ring of truth in my thoughts. I wasn't exactly helping myself in the long run. Besides, I always dealt with my problems on my own. Really, the only ones I ever talked about with anyone else were the ones that weren't in any dire need of solutions. I resolved not to let myself be as weak as I had allowed a few nights ago.

_Much better. _That resolved, I sighed and closed my eyes. Uncharacteristically, I fell asleep almost instantly.

"_Screw the ride, those robot animals are effing creepy!" Lizzy quipped from the seat ahead of me. Brooke nodded seriously,_

_ "Yeah! And that stupid cow just sneezed on us!" Lizzy scoffed._

_ "It's an ox, genius. God, what are they teaching you in school?" I coughed pointedly,_

_ "Don't be an ass, Liz. Don't you want to go shopping later?" It wasn't even a veiled threat. She glanced over her shoulder and pouted theatrically._

_ "Fine…jerk…" The log boat we were riding in started jerking steadily up a hill. Lizzy's pout transformed into a contagious grin. "Don't tell me, we're about to go over a huge waterfall…" I grinned back and secured an arm around Brooke._

_ "Yup."_

_ "Sharp rocks at the bottom?"_

_ "Most likely."_

_ "Bring it on." She finally turned back to the front and all three of us braced ourselves for the final drop of the ride. We released varying degrees of screams as we tipped over the edge._

_ I waited for the wave of water at the bottom to hit, but it never came. The log boat was still diving. I opened my eyes, unable to remember closing them, and gasped._

_ We definitely weren't on the ride anymore. Hell, _we_ weren't anywhere. I was on my own on a runaway log boat going God knew where. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. For all intents and purposes, I was deaf, blind, and mute._

_ Without warning, sight returned. I was standing now, the log boat having illogically disappeared. My surroundings seemed vaguely familiar, like something from a half-remembered dream. I was standing at the peak of an old-fashioned wooden roller coaster. It was completely dark and almost completely silent. Neither of my sisters were anywhere to be seen._

_ "Lizzy?" I called, "Brooke?" This wasn't right. Whatever was happening, I was their big sister. I was supposed to be there for them, to protect them. I took a deep breath to quell the panic rising within me. _You might need to fight. Panicking won't solve anything.

_I craned my neck in all directions, thankful for the high vantage point. _Wait. Did you hear that? _I turned toward the sound: sobbing, piercing and haunting. The hair on the back of my arms and neck rose. I wondered vaguely why I would have such a reaction to someone crying. Whoever it was, they were at the bottom of the roller coaster. I steeled myself and peered over the edge._

_ Three pairs of glowing crimson eyes stared back at me._

_ My breath caught in my throat, stealing speech again. I turned to run, but lost my footing on the old wood as an invisible force slammed into my knees. My fingers barely managed to grasp the edge of the rails as I fell. My legs kicked feebly, trying to find purchase. As soon as one of my feet connected with something, strong hands gripped my legs and arms. I was being pulled in two different directions, but it was obvious which side would prevail._

_ Little by little, I was being pulled violently downward by clawed demons with evil red eyes. My vision left me as I tried to look up and I finally lost my grip, plunging into the dark pit below._

I finally woke up with a gasp. I felt a slight weight on my shoulder and jerked away instinctively. At about the same time, I regained my waking sense of sanity. _Just a dream. Again._ It was beginning to get kind of old.

"Bad dream?" Ellis asked, cautiously sitting next to me. I propped myself on my elbows and cleared my throat before answering,

"Yeah." He frowned and put his hand on my knee.

"Wanna talk about it?" My lips quirked upward in a half smile.

"Not really." _Okay. Crisis averted. He can feel free to leave now…_

But that would have been too easy, wouldn't it?

I felt the mattress depress further as he lay down. I blushed, thankfully invisible in the dark, and skooched as close to the wall of the room as I could.

_ Seriously? _That's_ what you're all worked up about? You do realize you've shared a sleeping bag before, right?_

Sure, but it wasn't a damn _bed_.

I could almost hear my mental self giving herself a face palm and suppressed a giggle. Unfortunately, that thought had distracted me from the complex process of retreat and I slumped unceremoniously into the small space between the wall and the bed. And I landed on my right side. _Of fucking course…_I covered up the resultant light hiss with laughter that barely rang false.

"Got enough room?" I asked dryly as I crawled back onto the mattress. Ellis chuckled under his breath. Paying more attention to the gap this time around, I moved as close to the edge of the mattress as possible. It still didn't really help. Twin mattresses were not meant for more than one person. It looked like there was going to be some contact no matter what I did.

_That's adorable. _

Ugh.

_You _do _remember the infamous sleeping bag night, don't you? _

We've discussed this…what? Am I supposed to cuddle up to him or something? I don't think that helps _anyone…_

_No objections here…but the hypocrisy is pretty hilarious, isn't it?_

Bite me.

_Just saying. And, by the way, if you're going to sit here and be psychotic anyway, how about you actually make use of your time? _

Huh?

_Nip it in the bud. You've been on your own before, and you've managed just fine. Hell, you were able to take care of yourself just a minute ago with that stupid dream. Mind over matter, you know. Besides, why bother worrying about stupid shit like dreams? What does it matter in the end? You've been giving yourself an ulcer worrying about everyone you ever knew, but how does that help? If they really are dead, will you worrying about them bring them back to life?_

No…

_What if they turned into a bunch of mindless zombies? Will you cure them with this constant melodrama?_

No…

_So why bother? The only things you can control are directly surrounding you. You can control whether you can manage to sneak past a witch. You're in control of running fast enough to escape a horde. Why don't you spend some time worrying about that instead? It would be a hell of a lot more productive. _

Yeah, sure. What you're asking me to do is turn off my brain. That's the only way I'd stop thinking about them…

_So do it, already! Hell, you've managed to distract yourself with the whole bed sharing "dilemma" for just about ever now…it shouldn't be that difficult to find something else to think about. _

Sure. Like what?

_I don't know…go over the plot of _The Lord of the Rings _or some shit. See how many of the lyrics to _We Didn't Start the Fire _you can remember. Something. Or, you can always concentrate on the fact that you're fucking tired and this is the first decent bed you've had in a week…_

The last idea struck me as the most plausible. If I ignored the obvious issues, ranging from the likely deaths of my family to the awkward sleeping arrangement, I could actually relax a little.

_You are getting verrrrrrrrrry sleeeeeeepy…._

Come to think of it, I really _did _appreciate the feel of even the shabby mattress under me. My spine especially approved, cracking and popping lightly as I settled down. My aching head sank deeper into the somewhat flat pillow as I sighed with contentment. With smug satisfaction, I imagined bits of rock and ice smothering any traitorous part of my being. _Shields up, red alert. _Before I fell asleep, I correctly translated the smug, approving words floating through my head: _I told you so._

I could handle myself. I always had, and I would make damn sure that I always would.


	14. Mad Season

"_I feel stupid, but I know it won't last for long. And I've been guessing, and I could've been guessing wrong…"_

It was a perfect storm. The steady throbbing of the boat's engines, the almost absolute dark, and my first real bed in a week combined to make me sleep like a rock. Waking up without insistent zombies trying to bang into your hideout was absolutely luxurious. I awoke without feeling the need to go anywhere, do anything, and for once confident that I wasn't risking death by keeping my eyes closed another precious few minutes.

I was actually _refreshed _for a change. Granted, I was still sore all over, but it somehow felt less…disheartening. It was more like the soreness after a long workout. It reminded me of what I'd managed to do in the last few days and, more importantly, that I wasn't likely to need to do it again anytime soon. Even those small morsels of optimism shocked me. _Who are you and what have you done with Kate? _It seemed a good night's sleep and a square meal did wonders for one's state of mind. I stretched lazily, eyes still firmly shut, enjoying the release every snap, crackle, and pop afforded me. _Aaaaahhhhh…wait._

For a moment, I was convinced that I'd done it again. I would open my eyes and realize the obvious results of two adults trying to share a twin mattress. Embarrassing, awkward, and counterproductive. I had _just _regained my normal icy composure…what the hell was I _doing_? I half expected the door to the room to slide open, revealing Rochelle with a smug smile on her face.

Then logic finally regained the wheel. Would I really have been able to stretch that far if I was…erm…doing _that _again? Nope. My eyes blinked cautiously open and quickly scanned the room. I almost laughed at myself. What the hell had I been worried about? He wasn't even in the _room_. _He must've left. I sleep like the goddamn dead…_I propped myself up on my elbows and shook bushy strands of hair out of my face. As I sat up, I realized although I had the mattress to myself, I was not, in fact, alone.

"Good mornin'," Ellis said from the floor. I about jumped out of my skin, but managed a half coherent response as I looked down.

"Um…morning?" I paused briefly, "Uh…what're you doing on the floor?" He shrugged and grinned lopsidedly,

"Not enough room on the bed." I raised an eyebrow and frowned slightly. _The first night in a real bed and he takes the floor?_ _God, I must've been intolerable…either that or he was paying a hell of a lot more attention to my pre-sleep squirming than I thought…_ Come to think of it, I didn't think there had been enough beds for everyone. Sharing was inevitable. I felt like an asshole. What right did I have to demand my own space? The next words that spilled out of my mouth were propelled by that guilt and completely involuntary.

"Sure there is," I insisted, pulses of heat darkening my face at the implications of what I'd just said. _Nice work. No chance of him taking _that _the wrong way now, is there?_ My hands fisted and rested firmly on my hips, "And if there's not, _I'm _sleeping on the damn floor next time, okay?" Ellis seemed to be having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Okay," he agreed readily, a wide grin spreading across his face. He managed another couple of seconds before he started laughing his ass off. I rolled my eyes.

"What?" I asked insistently.

"N-nothin'…" he managed to choke out. It then dawned on me that I _did _look pretty damn ridiculous. My own lips twisted into a grin. I was sure I looked _damn _intimidating…bleary eyed, hair sticking out every which way, more like a mop than a head of hair, I imagined…uh-huh. _Terrifying._

I removed my fists from my hips and swung my legs to the edge of the mattress. My movements became much less reluctant when I caught an unmistakable whiff of bacon frying upstairs. My stomach growled in appreciation. I hopped to my feet and grandly gestured toward the door.

"Shall we?" I asked, offering a hand and helping Ellis off the floor. I fell slightly behind on the way upstairs in order to clumsily finger-brush my hair. I immediately vowed to myself that I _would _find a brush on that damn boat. The way things were going, I was half considering hacking most of it off with my machete.

We entered the main cabin to find the floor littered with maps, a calculator, and other assorted debris, Virgil crouched in the middle of it all with a frown plastered on his weathered face. We tiptoed carefully around the mess to grab a couple strips of bacon from the frying pan on the stove and a ladleful of steaming oatmeal. I sat down gingerly next to Rochelle.

"What's going on?" I stage whispered. She shrugged,

"Not quite sure. Coach asked how long it would take to get to New Orleans and he's been like that ever since." _Weird._ That was about the right way to describe it. There was something inherently odd with Virgil. I couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the mood he'd been in over the radio and the hermit vibe he was giving off now. I had a vague idea this silent, brooding mood was something relatively new to him. I had no idea why…intuition, perhaps? I knew I shouldn't pry, but something about his demeanor roused my curiosity. After a couple more moments of silence, I came to a seemingly obvious conclusion. Something awful had happened.

_No shit. It's called the end of the world. You know? Zombies and so forth? Maybe that has something to do with it, genius._

That much was obvious. I was thinking of something worse…not that I could exactly put my finger on what it was. I didn't really know the man from a hole in the ground. I shrugged and decided not to pursue it. He probably had a reason, but I didn't need to know it. Just as I turned back to my breakfast, Virgil sat straight up with a tired grin on his face.

"Should be plenty to get y'all over to N'Orleans," he said triumphantly. _Oh. Gas._ _Wait a second…_What that meant started to sink in. I suppressed the growing excitement inside me and waited out the pregnant pause that followed Virgil's statement.

"They still runnin' the evac up there?" Coach finally asked. Virgil bobbed his head up and down once.

"Las' time I checked, anyhow," he said almost casually, scanning the room for a final response. My quashed reaction tried to break free, bubbling over into a tentative grin. We had enough gas to get straight to New Orleans and the evac station was still open? I didn't exactly need to be Einstein to figure out what that meant. No more goddamn zombies! Presumably square meals and a shower every day until we got there! For the first time since I ran into the group by Whispering Oaks, I knew we were all going to make it.

_Don't you start that!_

Free at last! Free at last!

_Ever heard of Murphy's Law?_

Ever heard of shutting the fuck up, you goddamn wet blanket? Free at last! Fuck logic! We'd beaten the odds!

_You're counting your chickens before they hatch, you know!_

Nope, not listening. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!

_There still aren't any guarantees!_

I think I'll take my chances this time.

_Don't say I didn't warn you…_

I rolled my eyes and concentrated on the sudden breaking of the awkward silence.

"CEDA again?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow. _Here we go again…_

"Calm down, Nick. CEDA's gonna save us," Coach said pointedly.

"Or, they're gonna line us up against the wall and shoot us." _What the hell crawled up his ass and died? _Seriously? We'd just gotten news that rescue was a very real possibility, and his first reaction was a military conspiracy? What the hell? The ensuing silence was broken when Rochelle chucked a Dixie cup at Nick's head, hitting him squarely in the nose. Rochelle grinned slightly at the look on Nick's face.

"Shut the fuck up, Suit," she said lightly, turning back to breakfast. With that, all of us quickly forgot the comment. The room gave way to conversation that struck me as much more animated than usual. I mostly stayed silent, drinking in the atmosphere of apparent safety. It was a nice change of pace. I could sit back and relax instead of watching trees for the occasional hunter. Sitting here, not having to move or kill anything, it was easy to believe in a happy ending to this whole mess. Truth be told, I hadn't really considered any endings other than my death before.

Oddly enough, it was kind of giving me whiplash.

I had been thrown from one extreme to another. What seemed like five minutes ago, I had been tired, cold, hungry, and despairing. Now, I could safely sit and savor the little things: warm food, daily showers…it was really too much. As soon as I finished eating, I quickly ducked out of the cabin, needing space.

As soon as I was outside, I scaled the top of the cabin, clambering on top of a heavy barrel and shimmying my way onto the roof on my stomach, my legs kicking comically behind me until I found purchase. I figured no one would bother looking for me up there…it was too much of a pain in the ass to get to. I sprawled on my back, folded my hands lightly on my stomach, and closed my eyes. It wasn't absolutely silent, but the noises surrounding me were relaxing rather than stressing. I could hear the light slap of water against the boat and the lazy buzzing of more insect life than I cared to think of. I could feel a slight breeze pushing my hair back from my forehead.

It was kind of funny to think about, but _that _was exactly what I'd expected when I'd come down for Spring Break what seemed like years ago…peace, quiet, and a brief reprieve from home, where, more likely than not, it was thirty degrees out and _snowing_. _Cold 'nuff fer ya?_ I stretched further on my rooftop perch. The optimist in me, starved and pathetic as it was, was ridiculously content in that moment. _Nothing to do and seventy degree weather in March, girl. What more could you ask for?_

For once, the nagging part of me faded had almost completely. What was the point in worrying? I'd done enough of that for a dozen people recently. A different, seldom seen part of me popped up in its place. This particular part heavily reinforced my budding optimism. It almost smothered me with its enthusiasm.

_You still don't understand the full extent of this, do you? Guess what? You're officially released from mental solitary confinement! No point in all those pesky mental roadblocks anymore, is there?_

I wasn't quite sure if I was ready to believe that. My irritating logical side was only faded, not completely gone, after all. Besides, even in everyday matters, when my life wasn't even close to being in peril, I kept myself in a constant state of lockdown. Why stop now? There was no way of guaranteeing anything.

_Yeah, and you know what? There never _will _be. Never has been. And the future's looking a helluva lot brighter now than it did yesterday, so why not take the chance? If it doesn't work out, that's life. Deal with it. What was that you were thinking the other day? 'Tis better to have loved and lost…_

Terrific. At this rate, I almost missed my mental drill sergeant. My current brain pilot was driving me dangerously near giddiness.

_Screw that! Live a little! Girls just wanna have fu-un…_

Oh. My. God. Shut the hell up. I shook my head rapidly, hoping to keep some semblance of sanity. Despite everything that had just happened, now was not the time for giddy celebration. This was a test. I could feel it. Whenever something like this dropped into my lap, something else would snatch it away with a giggle and a smile.

_Oh no! It's the dreaded return of Princess Pessimism! Run awaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! Happy thoughts! Optimism, you idiot! _

Oh, fine. Any suggestions, Colonel Pep Rally?

_Empty your mind. Ain't that much to clear out. Ha ha. _

I rolled my eyes and tried to listen to myself, absentmindedly tapping my fingers on the roof. _Tap, tap, tap. Hmmm…_it was familiar enough. I started humming quietly to myself, ignoring everything else.

"Wow, how old _are _you?" My eyes opened with an effort. Rochelle was on the roof with me, staring at me with a half smile and a half-raised eyebrow.

"Huh?" I responded stupidly. Her grin widened and she hummed the next couple bars of the song.

"Seriously? I don't think I know anyone under forty who knows that…"

"To each their own I guess," I mumbled, shrugging. I was somewhat confused and annoyed. Why did my hiding places always have such a way of being immediately found out?

_Well, it doesn't take a genius. You're on the _Lag…Lan…French-sounding-name-I-can't-pronounce_…not the damn _Titanic. _And tapping on the roof where everyone was a few minutes ago probably didn't help your case._

"Anyway," Rochelle continued, plopping down on the roof next to me, "thought you might want some company." What was I supposed to say? _Actually, I was hoping to get a little breathing room from all of you guys. Would you terribly mind leaving me alone? _Real nice. _Shut up, grin and bear it, then. _I forced a small smile on my face,

"Sure." There was a brief pause, just long enough to be awkward. "So," I started reluctantly, "what do you want to talk about?" It felt ridiculously stilted and awkward, like a bad school play or something. She shrugged,

"I don't know. We're the last women on Earth, so I think we're stereotypically required to talk about shoes." I snorted.

"If any of _that _starts up, I think I'll go hug a witch," I said seriously. We both grinned.

"Okay," she said, her expression becoming unnaturally casual, "We could always talk about boys."

"Ha ha ha." She arched an eyebrow. _Shit. What the hell is she up to now? _"Well, I'm pretty sure most of them are zombies now," I said nonchalantly, leaning back on my arms, "I never was a big fan of claws or anything, you know. And I don't wanna _know _what a smoker'd wanna do with that damn tongue…" I was rambling. I could feel my face and chest turning beet red. This was _not _happening…

"Oh, I don't think _all _of them are zombies…" she trailed off suggestively. An evil smile was starting to twist her lips. The bitch was _enjoying _this. _Not that you can exactly blame her. How many times did you do the same damn thing to Lizzy? _

"Really? You think…Jared Leto made it?" I asked, pulling a semi-random name out of the air. She laughed shortly,

"Who the hell is that?" I groaned under my breath.

"Some…music…guy," I staggered out, "The hell if I know." I remembered little more than that, Lizzy had been the one who wouldn't shut the hell up about him, but I was too flustered for proper English. I shut my mouth stubbornly and shrugged with obvious effort. She waited pointedly for a few moments before bluntly broaching the next subject,

"Got a boyfriend or something?"

"_What?_" _Wow. Not one to beat around the bush is she? _I regained some of my composure. "Uh…no…" I arched an eyebrow suspiciously. I had figured she was on that track almost as soon as she got on the roof, but I had never thought she'd be that…forward about it. "You know, it _is _kind of the middle of the apocalypse. I hardly think it's the right time to be worrying about…that sort of thing," I said conclusively. _Wow. _Someone's _jumpin' right up on that high horse aren't they? Let us not talk about such plebian matters when the world is in _such _an awful state, dah-ling… _

"Seriously?" Rochelle asked, "_That's _what you're going with? You heard Virgil. We've got a straight shot to New Orleans from here. Regardless of what's going on with the rest of the world, _we're _done!" I slumped and threw my uninjured arm over my eyes in frustration.

"You mean like we were done after Whispering Oaks?" I asked pointedly, "Because, if memory serves, I _do _believe there was some minor peril after that. I seem to recall a helicopter crash, something about me almost getting blown to kingdom come by a pipe bomb, a pack of hunters…wasn't there more? Ah, yes," my voice took on a game show host quality, "Not _one_, not _two_, but _three _tanks!" Rochelle was just staring at me with an arched eyebrow,

"So…you done?"

"I don't know, am I? I probably left out a thing or two…but that was just off the top of my damn head, so you'll have to forgive me any omissions!"

"If that's all you think about all day…"

"What?"

"…then I think you need a therapist," she said with a sardonic grin. I froze for half a second then burst into mocking laughter.

"Ya think?" I asked sarcastically, "You happen to have references? Maybe one of those tanks was certified…" I trailed off. Rochelle did nothing but roll her eyes for the umpteenth time. A few seconds passed tensely before she spoke again,

"Sit up."

"What? Why?" I propped myself back on my elbows, my body instinctively readying itself to roll off the roof or something if need be. I felt a tug at the back of my head and squirmed, "Hey! What're you-"

"Oh, calm down," she interrupted, "Your hair's a damn _mess_." I twisted around incredulously and saw her holding one of those combs you'd get on picture day at school,

"Why the hell-?"

"Journalism," she said, shrugging, "Generally a good rule of thumb to have one on hand. Never know when the opportunity will arise." I sat up resentfully and made a halfhearted grab for the flimsy comb, which she easily deflected. She shook her head and gestured impatiently for me to sit still. I turned back around and submitted grudgingly. Sure I felt five again, as if I were really too incompetent to comb my own hair, but who was I to have a snit fight over something like that? I was hoping we'd finally found some peaceable equilibrium, but that was obviously impossible.

"I'm no psychiatrist or anything, but I'm pretty sure I have a diagnosis," she said loftily. It became obvious the whole motherly-hair-brushing thing was just a way to guarantee I wouldn't run off without losing a good chunk of hair. I gritted my teeth in annoyance.

"Oh yeah?" I responded, trying my best to convey "leave it the fuck alone already".

"You're completely incapable of making up your mind," she said, yanking through a particularly nasty tangle, "And you're confusing the shit out of him, you know. My prescription? Shit or get off the pot." I didn't say anything. I just sat there sullenly. I considered using her own tactics against her, but I really hadn't been paying enough attention to _them_ to have any real ammunition. _Fuck._ I was just about to the point of surrender when Nick interrupted from somewhere on the deck,

"Hey, Ro! Princess! Virgil's got booze down here!"

I snorted and thanked whoever was upstairs for once again being saved by the bell. I considered just sneaking off downstairs, but couldn't resist one last comment,

"Kinda funny how you're the only one he gives a real name, ain't it?" Before I turned to join the others, I could have sworn I saw her blush.


	15. The Middle

"_Everything, everything will be alright, alright!"_

I slipped down to the deck hurriedly, even bothering to notice the ladder on the opposite side of the cabin this time around. As my feet hit the floor, I was amazed to notice how low in the sky the sun was. I realized we must have slept practically the entire day. _Shit. This is more like spring break than I thought…_

_Exactly! So lighten up a little, jackass! How about a smile? Or at least wipe that pissed off look off your face…_

I think I have a _right _to that.

_Oh, stop being such a whiner. Look at them. Are they letting it get to them right now?_

I glanced around the deck and noticed even _Nick _had a smile on his face. Granted, I thought it was a helluva lot more likely he was either drunk or anticipating getting there than that he was in a genuinely good mood, but, hey, I digress.

_C'mon. Live a little. What was I telling you earlier? Nothin' you can do about it. So shut up, grab a beer, and enjoy yourself. _

Um…need I remind you my family's most likely dead? Or that we're not out of the woods yet? Or that Rochelle won't get off my case and is making everything into a lot more than it is and making it look like some after-school special…?

_Whatever. It doesn't matter. _

Look, ignoring everything helps _nothing_.

_But it doesn't _hurt _anything either, does it?_

What the hell? So basically you're telling me to ignore all my problems and get wasted? Gee, that sounds like a genius idea. God knows no harm has ever come from _that _particular method of coping…

_Oh, grow up. I'm not saying go and drink until you pass out or anything. _

You have a funny way of showing it.

_I'm saying you're twenty-one and you should go off and have a drink with your friends. No one likes a wet blanket. Remember Princess Pessimism? Helluva lotta fun that was. _

It's the goddamn apocalypse, genius. I'm not out here to have _fun_.

_'Course not. Doesn't mean you can't. Besides…it's pretty much over now, anyway. You heard what Virgil said. Next stop, New Orleans…then it's just a hop, skip, and a jump to the safe zone from there._

Uh-huh. Presumably. Somehow, I doubt this is over…

_Okay, fine. Think of this as…intermission or something then. You know? You are now free to roam about the cabin…something._

I've got too much on my mind right now…and I would say that's completely understandable! There's no way I can just ignore that all and pretend this is, I don't know, some fucking party boat or something.

_Fine, then. Fake it._

What?

_Don't go and ruin it for the rest of them, stupid. You're a decent actress when you wanna be. You can pretend you're having a helluva time, but still be an obnoxious, obsessive psycho on the inside! Sound like a deal?_

Before I could complete the conversation with…myself…Ellis popped out of nowhere, a couple of dripping beers in hand. For a split second, I found myself actually _trying _to stay pissed off and depressed. It was kind of ridiculous.

_My point exactly. You've had a helluva messed up week, girl. Just…forget it. _

Fine. Just for a few hours…

_Yeah! _

I reached out for one of the bottles with a half smile. Before I could pop the cap off, another hand grabbed at the neck of the bottle,

"You even legal, Princess?" I rolled my eyes at Nick.

"Yeah…I'm twenty-one…your point being?"

"You know, I was twenty-one for six years…"

"Uh, a, bite me, and b, I don't think anyone gives a shit about the drinking age just now."

"Not to mention," Rochelle added, "I believe you told us you aren't legally allowed to carry a gun?"

"Hey, I never heard anyone complaining before…" Nick protested. I twisted the cap off the bottle and grinned pointedly.

"Cheers!" I said sarcastically, raising the drink to my lips. Admittedly, I'd never really cared for the stuff. I was more of a fruity, sugary drink kind of girl. I'd always been pretty adamant that beer tasted and smelled like moldy bread. Nonetheless, I downed a good third of the bottle before setting it down. Now was hardly the time to be asking for an appletini or something…

Nick shrugged and walked toward the cabin, which was producing a very enticing smell of grilling meat. I wasted no time following suit. The source of the lovely smell turned out to be a bunch of hamburgers hissing on the stove. Coach was sitting on one of the lower bunk beds, three of the burgers steaming on the paper plate on his lap. I grinned at the sight. _He wasn't kidding about the one man cheeseburger apocalypse now, was he? _

I was the last one to get my food, precariously balancing everything as I searched for somewhere to sit. I started making my way to the last entirely empty bunk out of habit, but Rochelle quickly put a stop to it by casually launching herself onto it, laying against the wall and stretching her legs out to their full length. She smirked and raised an eyebrow pointedly. I turned around, trying to see what the hell she was getting at, and noticed she was gesturing at the empty spot next to Ellis.

She was really starting to get on my nerves.

_Stop being such a little bitch. Why are you getting so damn concerned about that anyway? You know damn well you would've ended up there anyway. Don't be so obstinate._

It was a good point, much as I hated to admit it. So, I gave in and plopped down next to Ellis. The silence was deafening. _Somebody really needs to say something…and damned if it's going to be me. God knows I'm not the Queen of Conversation Starters…_

"All _right_!" Coach exclaimed suddenly, just about making me jump out of my skin. _Damn! He must've _inhaled _those damn burgers._ He held up a CD he'd found. The band posing on the front looked oddly familiar. Rochelle snorted a little,

"Them again? Small world…" I took a closer look at the CD cover and it clicked into place. I'd only seen their likenesses twenty billion times in Whispering Oaks. For some reason, Virgil had a Midnight Riders album on his boat.

"Hey Virgil," Coach started, "you don't happen to have a…" Virgil interrupted by somewhat impatiently gesturing toward an old CD player in the corner. Coach shrugged and started fiddling with the machine and soon enough, the first song started.

"Doesn't _anyone _on this boat have decent taste in music?" Nick complained. I raised an eyebrow at him, set my food on the floor, crossed the room, and slid the volume knob up a few notches. I smirked at Nick, who shrugged and turned back to his meal. I sank ungracefully back into my seat.

"I'm pretty sure that's the part when that pervy little hunter jumped me," I observed casually, taking another pull from my bottle.

"And there's where that punk-ass smoker got a hold of me," Coach added. Most everyone in the room tentatively smiled. That particular incident had bordered perilously on cartoonish. The hesitant burst of human interaction died almost as soon as it started. It was somehow worse than the first one, in spite of the heavy music covering awkwardly loud clinks and taps of bottles being silently brought to mouths. I thought it had something to do with the quick death of the first promise of normalcy. It was mind numbing.

I set my things down, having finally finished my food in the infinite quiet. Needing an exit, I started to pick, apparently absentmindedly, at the clumsy stitching on my arm. I was distantly grateful I'd never thought to rewrap it after my shower earlier. I worked at it in a way that would hopefully cause a noticeable effect, but not really cause that much damage. I gently bit the inside of my mouth in concentration and discomfort. A drop of blood lazily beaded in the corner of a stitch. My teeth sank further into their setting. _Almost there…_

I finally stopped scratching with a carefully subtle wince and looked down at my arm in mock surprise. I smiled apologetically at no one in particular, smudging the droplet of red with my thumb. I sighed, in my opinion, theatrically.

"Be right back," I announced, leaving the room allegedly in search of a first aid kit. I remembered seeing one near my cupboard, so I headed downstairs to suppress any suspicion. I searched the room listlessly, pressing my stained thumb lightly against my lips as I did so. The familiar coppery taste of blood dotted the tip of my tongue. _Ew._ I finally located the little red box. Unsnapping it, I found a roll of gauze and some medical tape. A brief smile flew across my face. Theoretically, I wouldn't need help this time. I braced my arm against the wall and surgically taped one end of the gauze to it. I began to wrap myself up and found my mind wandering again.

With few exceptions, I seemed to have lost myself. I had moved from living to surviving. It wasn't that it was an unreasonable move to make. It was just a disturbing one to realize. Come to think about it, I hadn't really been myself for a week. What happened to the girl who danced to Lady Gaga while folding laundry? Whatever happened to the person who could quote by heart every damn lyric from _Repo! The Genetic Opera_, often accompanied by her sister and an eye roll?

_"Hey, Liz?"_

_ "What?"_

_ "I'll keep those vultures guessing!"_

It hurt. A lot. But it wasn't going to help anyone to forget who I was, least of all me. At some point, I would need to stop pretending and get well for real. If there existed even the possibility of my own survival, I would need to eventually let them go. No matter how badly it hurt.

I finished winding the bandage around my arm and taped the end clumsily into place. It would hold…for now anyway. It didn't really need to do much more than keep those cuts from breaking open again. All it needed was a chance to properly heal. I cracked a tiny smile at the thinly veiled metaphor.

I startled at a sound behind me and whipped around guiltily. Predictably, it was Ellis. I offered a somewhat strained smile,

"Hey."

"Hey." I bit my lip and moved my newly wrapped arm in front of me.

"Stupid thing started bleeding again, so…" I trailed off uncertainly. What the hell was wrong with me? Words…I needed words. Why weren't we talking? This whole ducked head and incoherent speech thing was ridiculous and atypical. What was so different now?

_Ahem…Rochelle…_

Oh, right. That.

I rubbed my forearm lightly, feeling like I was in eighth grade again. A few more moments of silence passed. I couldn't exactly say I was getting used to it. Ellis finally cleared his throat,

"So…do ya want to…go outside or somethin'?" My face reddened illogically. I felt a sudden searing hate for the dangling light bulb illuminating everything.

"Sure," I said a little too quickly. I pulled the chain on the light switch and followed him out of the room and up the stairs. I couldn't help but notice the huge shift in musical tone. I had left a song with roaring guitars and growled vocals and come back to something soft and melancholy. For a moment, I was sure someone had changed the CD. No way the people singing about dealing with and subsequently running away from the devil could make anything like that. But the voice was easily recognizable. _Huh. Must've been their shot at a rock ballad or something…_

"Oh, wow," I breathed as we emerged outside, leaving the anomalous music behind. In the bare hour or so since I'd last been on deck, veritable constellations of fireflies had dotted the dark landscape. The blinking flashes of light surrounded us. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen fireflies before; they were a common enough spectacle in my own yard at home. The thing was, I'd never seen so damn _many _of them at once. Maybe it had something to do with being out in the middle of nowhere, away from any pollution of city lights. I craned my neck up and noticed for the first time just how many more stars there were out here. They didn't merely dot the velvety night sky. They _dominated _it.

Behind me, I could hear Ellis chuckling under his breath. I found myself blushing again and couldn't quite put my finger on why. I tried hard to point it toward embarrassment, although that wasn't quite right. I shrugged it off and glanced toward the roof, where a number of the fireflies had gathered. Ellis followed my gaze and tugged lightly on my hand. I allowed myself to be led to the ladder. Ellis moved out of the way with a grin,

"Ladies' first." _Ha ha. Lady. You're a lotta things, but that ain't one of 'em. _Something was seriously wrong with me. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I'd managed to get drunk, but promptly dismissed the idea as ridiculous. I'd had _one_ drink spread out over the space of an _hour_.

_There are simpler explanations, you know._

Shut up.

I gingerly made my way up the ladder, hyperaware of Ellis trailing directly behind me. As soon as I reached the top, I swung myself around and plopped to the roof cross legged. My arms eased behind me, palms fanning out on the rough surface. He gingerly stepped over my reclining form and snuck to the other side of the roof. I stifled a laugh.

"What're you doing?" I asked, the question betraying hidden laughter. He didn't answer and continued toward the edge of the roof. I scrambled carefully to my feet and followed. I stopped and balanced on the balls of my feet, mimicking his absolute stillness and trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Without warning, his hands darted. I managed to lose my shaky balance and fall flat on my ass. Shaking off my clumsiness, I crawled over to see a faint glow emanating from his cupped hands.

"Oh, cool!" I blurted out, peering into a gap between his thumbs to see the trapped bug lazily crawling around, flashing intermittently. My face colored and I drew away slightly in embarrassment. I sounded like a babbling, stupid teenager. Ellis grinned,

"Don' tell me you've never tried it before." I shrugged and smiled sheepishly,

"Nope. Too slow." Well, that was most of it, anyway. The other thing was a rather…_feminine _dislike of having anything with more than four legs crawling on me. I'd be damned if I was going to admit it though.

"Ya want to hold it?" he asked, gesturing. I smiled.

"Sure," I said, forcing myself to hold out my hands. It was actually quite a delicate procedure. One wrong move, and we would have an escaped firefly plummeting to the water. When we finally managed to get the bug in my hands, my stomach turned a little at the feeling of its weight dropping into my cupped palms. Its light flickered spastically in its new cage. _Ugh…admittedly that looks cool, but this is _so _nasty…_I twisted my hands a little to try and get a better view.

"It's _moving_," I squeaked, trying my best not to wrinkle my nose. Ellis laughed at me,

"Uh, yeah, they do tend to do that." I snorted and opened my hands. Maybe if the bug sensed open air, it would jump off or something. No such luck. Instead of flying away, it stubbornly stayed put. Come to think of it, I wasn't completely sure they _could _fly. After a couple seconds, it seemed to sense the open space and started to crawl merrily all over my left palm. Ellis chuckled.

"Looks like you've made a friend," he observed. I shook my firefly-occupied hand lightly. It took the opportunity to crawl onto the tip of my pointer finger. I smirked.

"A very _clingy _friend," I amended. I brought my hand to my lips and blew gently. It flickered stubbornly and scuttled to the nail instead. I sighed, gave up, and set my hand palm down on my thigh.

"Used to do that all the time when me 'n Keith were kids," Ellis started, "Got to the point where we could get ten or twelve of 'em at once." I wiggled my occupied finger.

"Lemme guess. Someone got set on fire?" I ventured with a grin. He half-smiled and shook his head.

"Naw. That was 'bout the only thing we did that _didn't _involve third degree burns…" he trailed off uncharacteristically. I smiled obligatorily. Something wasn't exactly right. I pursed my lips several times, waffling between getting involved and giving him some space. If it were me, I would want to be left alone; bringing attention to whatever was going on with me was embarrassing as hell. Besides, I was more of a "do-it-yourself" sort of person as far as that went. Of course, Ellis wasn't me…I stopped thinking and acted. I let my hand brush his, causing his head to whip up in surprise. My brow furrowed.

"You miss him," I blurted out. _No, _duh. His eyes flickered once.

"Yeah," he started, "But we'll run into him once we get to the safe zone." I couldn't help feeling a little jealous. He sounded so damn sure of himself. I smiled softly,

"You think so?"

"No…I _know _so. Saw him and Kelly gettin' on the chopper in Savannah." I frowned. There was so much that could have gone wrong since then. The people on the helicopter could have become infected. From graphic personal experience, I knew the _pilot _could have become infected. A tank could have thrown a chunk of asphalt at the helicopter and sent it hurtling in a death spiral toward earth…but who needed to hear all that?

"I'm sure he's fine," I said mostly genuinely. With all the shit he'd allegedly been through, a little chopper crash probably wouldn't make much of a dent.

"I know." There was another long pause.

"You okay?" I asked.

"'Course I am," he answered quickly, "Why wouldn't I be?" This seemed familiar. I'd only acted out this scene about twenty times in the past week or so, albeit in a different role. The corners of my mouth lifted infinitesimally.

"I could think of a few reasons." He obliged me with a tight smile, but remained silent and returned to glazed-eyed staring at the passing swamp. I blew out a frustrated breath. This was proving more difficult than I thought. _Time to pull out the big guns…uh, if you can figure out how to use them anyway._ I slid closer to him until our legs touched and lightly squeezed his hand. He met my eyes again, plainly confused.

"You can tell me anything, you know," I said. A shadow of his usual smile crossed his face,

"Seriously. I'm fine." _He's even more stubborn than you are. _Stupid stubborn masculine pride. _You're one to talk. _

It was true enough. When was the last time I'd willingly accepted help the first time? How many times had I lied about being perfectly fine just so people would leave me alone? I decided not to push it any further. If he was anything like me, the truth would come out sooner or later. Besides, I wasn't particularly adept at the role I was trying to adopt.

A light breeze wafted around us, whistling over the silence and brushing across my bare arms. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. The pleasant, summery quality of the day had certainly wasted no time disappearing once the sun set, reminding me that it was, in fact, March. _Once again, smooth move forgetting your jacket on the highway, genius. _

"Here," Ellis said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me flush against him. _I suppose chivalry finds a way even without a letter jacket._ Heat rose to my face in spite of the chill. I would have protested. Hell, I _meant _to. But somehow I found myself leaning my head on his shoulder instead. Before I could give that a second thought, his cheek was resting on top of my head and I was effectively trapped. It felt oddly nice. _Nope, nothing I can do about it now. Might as well just sit back and get comfortable. _I grinned. Forget Princess Pessimism; I had moved on to Queen of Rationalization.

I'm not sure how long we ended up sitting there like that. Time really hadn't had much meaning in the last week. It was odd to think about my previous life. Everything was precisely timed and I was surrounded by beeps, chimes, and screeches moving me on to the next checkpoint. Time was just…ill-fitting now. Come to think of it, it was kind of nice. Everything focused on the present rather than the tenuous future. I relaxed by degrees, my eyes sliding closed against the twinkling night. _A couple minutes can't hurt, right?_ For some reason, I felt an overwhelming sense of safety. I felt no need to scan the area for threats, to move, or even to open my eyes.

A few minutes later, I was being gently shaken awake. _How can I _possibly _be this damn tired? I slept the whole day, didn't I? This is re-gosh-darn-diculous. _I ground a fist into my closed eyes and lifted my head, making known a spectacular crick in my neck. I grimaced. Obviously I hadn't learnt my lesson regarding falling asleep in a non-prostrate position.

"Sorry," Ellis said, "Sleepin' on the roof probably ain't the best idea…"

"Yeah," I agreed, stretching carefully, "And I'll never fall asleep later…I'm gonna hurt my neck sitting like that…etcetera, etcetera…" I ran a hand through my hair. It was damp. I frowned, "It start raining or something?"

"Somethin' like that." I nodded slowly and tried to get up, causing a raging pins and needles sensation to spread down the side of my right leg. I bit my lip and stifled a giggle.

"Stupid leg…" I mumbled. Ellis frowned.

"Somethin' wrong with it?" he asked, reaching out to touch it.

"No, don't!" I yelped, trying unsuccessfully to smack his hand away without moving my leg. The pins and needles gained intensity. I laughed harder. "Stupid thing's asleep!" An overly innocent look plastered itself on his face,

"Oh, sorry. Ya mean _this _one?" He darted out and poked it again. I squirmed away, managing to bang the hypersensitive limb against the side of the cabin in the process.

"S-stop it, you ass!" I managed between spurts of laughter.

"Stop what?" I continued my retreat.

"You know damn w-" I was cut off as I teetered alarmingly on the edge of the roof. My body stiffened as I anticipated impact, but I never made it off the roof.

"Gotta be more careful," Ellis commented, his hand still supporting my lower back. _Hmm…this ain't half bad right here. _Mind out of the gutter, jerk. I smiled awkwardly, tensed my stomach and pulled myself up.

"No kidding." I shook my head rapidly, sending a rush of black dots into my vision. "Whoa. Maybe that's a sign I should get my butt to…sleep." Ellis nodded and started down the ladder. I followed, noticing that his gaze was firmly fixed upward as we descended. Apparently he wasn't going to take any risks with me falling on my klutzy ass.

We managed to make it back to the cabin without any casualties. The room was mostly empty and still echoed with the Midnight Riders CD Coach must have put on repeat. Despite that, Coach was sprawled on a lower bunk snoring his head off and Virgil was half-propped in a corner and asleep. Ellis put a finger to his lips and tried to move stealthily across the floor. He did just fine until he managed to set an empty beer bottle rolling merrily across the room. I bit my lip and held my breath as it teetered on the edge of the stairs; I almost lost it when it tumbled the rest of the way, finally coming to rest with a clink at the bottom.

I glanced around the room apologetically, but neither Coach nor Virgil moved an inch. My eyes met Ellis' from across the cabin. We both struggled not to laugh. I managed to get myself under control and began crossing the floor, hands clasped behind my back, jauntily humming along to the current song. Ellis' smile widened. I paused and arched an eyebrow with a grin.

"What?" I mouthed. We managed to hold it together until we were halfway down the stairs. It really wasn't that funny, but…it was _something_. Maybe my new brain general was right. It didn't hurt to just forget about things for a night. I had no delusions it would change anything. If anything, the memories and associated heartache would come back tenfold in the morning. But, at least I would have those few hours, a precious nugget of time when I could remember what I had been before everything changed.

That in mind, I took a running jump into the mattress under the stairs, still grinning as the movement jolted through my body. Ellis shook his head and kneeled next to the bed.

"Did I ever tell ya you're fuckin' crazy?" he asked with a smile. I grinned back,

"Only once or twice…" I trailed off and laughed nervously as I realized how close our faces were. _Oh, damn it anyway…_I skooched back on the mattress, effectively putting an end to _that._ He pulled away at almost the same time, set his hat in a corner, and sprawled out on the floor with an arm over his eyes.

"Well, good night," he said. I rose to my knees and crossed my arms.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Goin' to sleep." I rolled my eyes and plopped next to him on the floor. His arm peeled away from his face. I cleared my throat pointedly.

"I believe we discussed this," I started in a parody of formality, "And if we're not sharing, then I do believe it's _my _turn to sleep on the floor." He rose to his elbows.

"Ya don't mind?" he asked, surprised.

"Not at all," I said breezily.

"Ya sure? 'Cause I don' mind sleepin' down here…" I interrupted with a snort.

"I'm sure." _And I don't believe chivalry extends to you breaking your back sleeping like that._ I flung myself back on the mattress emphatically and lightly tapped the empty space. I heard him chuckle and felt his weight sink into the mattress a moment later.

"Last chance…" he said. I rolled on my side and stared at him.

"I swear, if you say that one more time, _I'm _gonna sleep on the goddamn floor," I warned. He grinned at me,

"Yes ma'am." Our faces were precariously close again. I bit the inside of my mouth nervously and lowered my eyes to a bit of fuzz on the sheet with intense focus.

"Um…good night then," I mumbled. And then he was moving in with nothing I could do about it. I tensed as his lips pressed tentatively against my forehead. I blushed violently. _Where on Earth did that come from?_

"Night, darlin'."


	16. Crossfire

"_Let me inside, no cause for alarm..."_

Well, I wasn't tired anymore.

I suppressed an itching urge to brush my fingers across my forehead. I couldn't really find a suitable reaction to what had happened. Part of me insisted this was definitely a _bad _thing. After all, hadn't I been trying to avoid something like this: another relationship that would hurt to inevitably lose?

Of course, much as I hated to admit it, even to myself, the other half was wishing he hadn't _just _kissed my forehead.

What the hell was the protocol for this kind of thing, whatever it was, anyway? We were in the middle of the damn _apocalypse_. But at the same time, this whole debacle had to end sometime, didn't it? It couldn't be the end of the world _forever_. Eventually, things would settle down and people would have to start rebuilding.

I mentally shook my head. It wouldn't do to start thinking that far ahead. There was no way of telling whether we would actually make it that far. Any number of things could happen. The boat could sink in a storm. A witch could sneak aboard. We could get stranded without food. No matter what anyone said, we weren't out of the woods yet.

It wasn't as if I really _objected _to the idea or anything…much as I'd like to deny it. He was sweet, funny, and thus far had done a damn good job keeping me from going completely bonkers. Definitely positives. And now that I was allowing myself to think about it, there were definitely a few more _tangible _characteristics I didn't exactly object to…I mentally smacked myself. I was thinking like a stupid teenager again. Not that those days were all that far behind me, but still…

This really wasn't like me at all. I needed to get a _grip _already. I took a deep breath and ticked items off in my head. I didn't need to add more complications to an already hairy situation. What person in their right mind tries to start…uh…dating?...in the middle of the apocalypse? Despite the perfectly outlined escape route, anything could go wrong.

But weren't risks always there? Even in normal, zombie-free life?

Ugh. This was ridiculously complicated. With everything that had happened lately, my brain was a complete mush. _That's it. I'm just tired and can't think straight. I'm probably blowing everything out of proportion again anyway. What happened doesn't necessarily _mean _anything. Could be completely innocent. Right?_

*/*/*/*/*

_What? What was that?_ I abruptly flopped over and wedged myself between the mattress and the wall again. I bit my lip and suppressed a curse. _Why don't I ever land on my _left_ side doing that? _I clutched my arm with a soft hiss and rolled back into bed, shutting my eyes firmly. An unidentifiable noise lingered just beyond the peaceful nothingness of sleep.I woke up gradually, trying to hang onto sleep as long as possible. I couldn't be sure since the room was nearly pitch black regardless of the time of day, but I had a sense it was far too early to be awake. I grumbled under my breath and turned over…tried to anyway. _Oh yeah. _There wasn't exactly a lot of maneuvering room on the mattress anymore. I pursed my lips and hoped I hadn't woken Ellis up. I rose to one elbow and carefully moved to the very edge of the bed.

"_No…_" I froze and glanced over at Ellis. His face was contorted in a grimace. He groaned something else indistinguishable. I shuffled carefully closer.

"Ellis?" I whispered. Another groan. His head thrashed over to one side. His face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. "Hey," I said a little louder, touching his shoulder, "Wake up!" He finally woke up with a disoriented jerk.

"Kate?"

"Yeah…you okay?" He blinked once.

"Yeah," he answered, "Fine." I frowned. I didn't believe him. I'd done the same thing too many times before.

"You were talking in your sleep," I said quietly. I hesitated a beat, "Nightmares?" He looked like he was going to deny it again, but nodded instead.

"Yeah." I waited, hoping he would add more, but the room stayed perfectly silent.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked finally. He sighed once and mumbled something that sounded annoyingly like "I'm fine" before his eyes slid shut again. I hesitated again for a moment, shook my head, and dove right in. Enough was enough.

"Keeping everything bottled up like this is a bad idea, you know," I started. His eyes opened and I cracked a self-deprecating smile, "Believe me, I would know." I sighed a little, debating whether to go farther, then continued, "Look, to be perfectly honest, I don't know _where _I would be right now if I didn't have you to talk to. My head's not exactly in a normal place right now. My family. Every minute I get any alone time, they're _all I think about_. What if I _hadn't _come down here for spring break? What if they decided to try and follow me after things went bad? What were the last words I said to any of them? Are they safe? Could I have done anything differently to _make _them safe? And even when I'm not doing that, when I'm able to forget for a little while, I feel guilty for _not_ thinking about them. It's enough to drive a person crazy."

I took a deep breath and felt a little weight lift off my chest. I exhaled and smiled, "Sorry. Guess I needed that…but do you see what I mean? It hurts at first, sure, but…that felt _good_." I let out another long breath and relaxed a little more. "Now," I continued, "Your turn." I paused for a moment, waiting for an answer, "Ellis, what happened?" He was silent so long, I almost thought he was ignoring me. I was beginning to doubt my boldness when he finally started,

"Ya know I almost got evacuated before I met any of you? Me'n Keith and his girl Kelly were up at the park when they finally told us to evacuate. Got halfway to the Vannah before I thought to go back for ma." He paused and laughed once humorlessly. "Can you imagine that? End of the world an' I damn near forget about her…" I took his hand and squeezed encouragingly. I definitely knew the feeling.

"Keith was gonna come back with me, of course, but that was 'bout the time Kelly started panickin'. She was screamin' her head off and about ready to pass out…he couldn't exactly leave her alone out there. People were already turnin' in the streets, ya know? Before I left, he already had to carry her. So I had to go alone." He sighed heavily.

"That was the last I saw of either one of 'em. Streets were pretty clear of infected at that point, so I'm pretty sure they would've made it to the evac, but…" He trailed off and was silent another moment. He shook his head, "Who's to say they even made it that far? It was pretty early on…I don't even know for sure whether they were immune. And the damn hotel was _on fire_ by the time we made it back there…" His hand tightened on mine, almost uncomfortably. I squeezed back and ignored the discomfort.

"I drove back home as fast as I could…not that there was much left at that point." I prepared myself for the worst. "Whole house was completely trashed. I don't know what I was expectin' to find…but there was absolutely _nothin' there_. No idea what happened. Coulda gotten infected, or carried off by a charger…hell, maybe she even got evacuated." He laughed again, "It's almost worse not knowin'. It'd be so much easier to just…get it over with…" His voice hitched on the last words and he closed his eyes. I frowned.

"Are…you crying?" I asked stupidly. _Wow, you're _real _good at this. Wouldn't you just _love _if someone pointed that out to you?_ His eyes blinked open again.

"Hell no, I ain't cryin'…" Hoping I wasn't screwing up again, I moved closer and wrapped my arms around him, resting my chin on his shoulder. He stiffened for a second, then his arms wrapped around my back and his cheek pressed into my shoulder. My bare shoulder was immediately damp. It was simultaneously awkward and, again, kind of nice in a way that I was just starting to recognize and should probably have ignored.

I waffled about a hundred and one times between remaining silent and trying to say something. Given my propensity for completely fucking things up, I finally opted for the former. I really wasn't cut out for this sort of shit. It seemed to be the right decision. The quiet extended for a long time…but it never really seemed like it needed to be filled. After a while, Ellis lifted his head from my shoulder. I raised my head soon after. Our arms stayed where they were.

"Ya know," he started seriously, "This is supposed to be _my _job."

"I think we can take it in shifts," I answered with a grin. He snorted.

"Maybe…" he conceded. I raised an eyebrow.

"No maybes," I said firmly, "Besides, you did a helluva lot better than I did." His eyebrows drew together.

"That's different," he insisted. I raised an eyebrow and loosened my hold on him. "You're a…" I coughed and rested a fist on my hip.

"You know, if you value your life, you won't finish that sentence." He smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry…" _Damn straight._

"Sorry, I just…can't take any more of that damsel in distress crap." I knew that wasn't exactly what he'd meant, but it still rubbed me the wrong way. Plus it was the perfect opportunity for a relatively harmless distraction. "Hard enough to debunk that as it is…" My head cocked to the side at a sudden realization, "You know I'm the only pussy outta the five of us that can't handle a shotgun?" Ellis rolled his eyes. "What?"

"Really ain't that difficult." I snorted.

"Sure. Says the guy who's been shooting them for ten years." His eyebrows rose comically high.

"Ten years?" he grinned, "Hell, I learned to shoot before I learned to walk!" I half-smiled.

"You make it sound easy…"

"It is!" He paused for half a beat, "I could teach ya!" His face lit up contagiously; I couldn't help laughing. He reddened and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh…if you want to, o' course." My grin widened.

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed with a nod. Having safely redirected the conversation, I lay down completely and let out a relieved breath. Ellis followed suit. I had just started to relax when I remembered a very obvious recurring problem.

"Shit…" I groaned as I peeled myself from the mattress.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm moving the bed. I am _not _falling into that damn hole again." He clumsily jumped off the bed and rushed over to help. With a couple firm shoves, we pushed the mattress flush against the wall. Satisfied, I shuffled back onto the bed on my knees. Ellis stretched out beside me. After what seemed like a formidable silence, Ellis shifted and snuck his arm around my shoulders. I stiffened immediately, a hot blush creeping across my face._ Good thing it's so damn dark._ _Where is all this coming from? _He paused.

"This okay?" he asked. I waited a moment before answering. It didn't necessarily mean anything like _that. _It could be a simple matter of human comfort. Who was I to deny him that? _It's no big deal. No harm done...screw it._ I shifted a little closer.

"Just fine."

*/*/*/*/*

The next thing I heard was the shower sputtering to a reluctant start. _Why won't this world ever let me sleep? _I blew a frustrated breath through my nose and opened my eyes. I was lying on my side, Ellis' arm wrapped around me high on my stomach. Damn near _too_ high when you got right down to it. I shifted a little and the hand rose inevitably higher. _Okay, I think it's time for everyone to wake up now!_

I cleared my throat loudly and rolled onto my back. His arm slipped to drape loosely around my stomach. I winced as it brushed up against the hunter wounds from a while back. _Okay. Now to get the heck out of here without waking him up._ I shuffled slowly to the edge of the mattress, Ellis' arm grazing over my stomach annoyingly as I did so. I finally broke free, landing on the hardwood floor with an unceremonious _whump_. I sat up, glanced back at the mattress, and shrugged. _Still less awkward than the whole sleeping bag debacle. _At least this time I'd managed not to wake him up.

"Rise and shine, you two!" Rochelle called as she swung open the door to the room. Ellis, unsurprisingly, jumped awake suddenly. I about had a heart attack, jumped a mile, and cracked the back of my head against the rather unyielding wall.

"Aw, what the hell…?" he grumbled. Rochelle shrugged innocently.

"Food's ready," she said. She glanced down at me on the floor and shook her head in mock disapproval, "Shame on you, Ellis…letting a lady sleep on the floor…" Ellis' mouth popped open in protest, but Rochelle bounced back out the door as fast as she'd come in. I rubbed the back of my head with a grimace.

"I thought you were…" he began.

"I wasn't _on _the damn floor…" I grumbled. I groaned. "Ugh, _what the hell, Rochelle?_" I yelled with considerable strength. Ellis chuckled from the mattress. "No, seriously! She trying to give us a heart attack or something? Mission fucking accomplished…" He got up and offered me a hand, yanking me to my feet. I actually had a fairly decent guess as to what Rochelle was up to…not that that knowledge made me any happier. If anything, the constant meddling was pissing me off. I was twenty-one years old, for God's sake! I thought I could probably handle whatever this was…despite years of inexperience…and general indecisiveness…

_He's still holding your hand. Stop zoning out and say something! _I huffed out a breath and plastered an exaggeratedly enthusiastic grin on my face as I made myself look at him.

"So…breakfast, then shooting lessons?" I asked in what I hoped was an innocent tone. He grinned widely.

"Definitely!" Before I could really comprehend what was going on, I was being dragged quickly out the door by the hand.

*/*/*/*/*

I took the shotgun from him gingerly, weighing the unfamiliar object in my hands. I frowned. It was heavier than I thought it would be. It was one thing thinking about learning how to shoot large caliber weaponry in the abstract…it was quite another to actually hold one in your hands.

"You sure about this?" I asked doubtfully.

"Definitely." There was no room for argument in his tone, but still…

"Isn't a little…um," I hoisted it clumsily to my shoulder, "…big?" He smiled reassuringly.

"Naw. Seriously. My ten-year-old cousin could shoot that thing." I sighed and shifted the weight to my shoulder.

"All right," I said in one short exhale, "I'm ready."

"Okay." He moved around behind me and repositioned the gun in my hands. I relaxed as best I could, trying not to make too much of a pain in the ass of myself. "Now, don't do nothin' yet…" I took the command literally and froze completely. I barely dared to move my eyes. Who knew what would make this behemoth go off? He stepped back to look over his handiwork and frowned.

"What?"

"You're leanin' backward."

"So?"

"You do that and the recoil's goin' to put ya on your ass." I breathed heavily through my nose.

"Whatever happened to 'my ten-year-old cousin can shoot this?' Just how much kick are we talking about here anyway?" I was rambling almost incoherently. The shotgun wavered a bit in my less than professional grip. Ellis stepped forward and lifted the muzzle level again. He looked at me with a reassuring smile.

"Trust me. You'll be fine." He came up behind me again and lightly gripped my shoulders. "Now, lean _forward_."

"Lean _forward_," I mumbled to myself as he gently shifted my torso to the right position. He stepped back to review the situation and I refroze. He laughed.

"Relax, darlin'." I jumped a little and reddened a lot at the name, but did my best to ignore it and do as I was told. My muscles gradually loosened their firm death grip.

"This right?" I asked, an edge of nervousness making its way into my voice. He looked me up and down and nodded with a trademark grin.

"Yeah…that's right." He leaned forward and flicked something on the gun, presumably the safety, and stepped back again. I tentatively ran my hand over the pump. _Shit. I'm going to kill myself. Whose idea was this anyway? _I racked my mind for a reason to procrastinate.

"Um…" I trailed off, trying to think of a question that _wouldn't _make me look like a jackass, "…uh, what am I supposed to…aim at?" He snorted.

"Let's just get ya used to _shootin' _the thing before we worry about actually _hittin' _anything."

"O-okay…" I still made no move to shoot. Ellis smiled sympathetically.

"Here," he said, stepping up close behind me, "I'll help ya with the first shot, alright?" I nodded tensely. His hands positioned themselves over mine on the gun, the left one sliding the pump back with a loud click. "Ready?" I nodded again.

Without further ado, his finger curled more tightly over mine and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion. The gun jerked hard against my shoulder, not as badly as I'd predicted, but enough to make me stumble back a step and run solidly into Ellis. The shot penetrated a nearby tree, sending shards of bark flying in all directions.

"What the hell are you ass clowns _doing?_" Nick came stomping out from the cabin of the boat with a glare plastered on his face. I shrugged noncommittally.

"Practicing."

"I think you meant to say 'wasting ammo'." My eyes narrowed.

"Just what is that supposed to mean?" Nick raised an eyebrow.

"Are you serious? Do I really need to spell it out for you?" He made a point of taking a deep breath. He finally started speaking, steepling his fingers pointedly. "There are zombies. We kill zombies with guns. Guns need bullets. Shooting at trees does _not _help anything."

I opened my mouth to shoot back a witty retort, but was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the team.

"What the _hell _is goin' on?" Coach exclaimed loudly. Ellis smiled tentatively.

"I was just teachin' Kate how to shoot," he said casually.

"_Excuse me?_ It ever occur to either of ya that those damn zombies are attracted to _noise?_" Ellis started rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. I bit the inside of my lip. Somehow, it felt worse hearing the same sort of criticisms from Coach. His admonitions carried more weight. _Probably has something to do with the age difference. The rest of them aren't old enough to be your father…_True enough. Whenever Nick bitched about something, I always took on the unfamiliar mantle of younger sister, a kind of mentality that switched my mind over to a broken record of, "you're not the boss of me."

I forced myself back to the present. As was my habit with lengthy lectures, my mind had started to wander in self-defense. Who knew how long a particular tirade, particularly one I'd heard five thousand times, would last?

"…even the right way to start. I'd be willin' to bet she's never shot _anything _before this shit started up, and you figure startin' out with a shotgun is a bright idea? If anything, she shoulda started out with a BB gun or somethin'…"

_Oh, screw it…_I wasn't going to get anything useful out of this anyway. I resorted firmly to my normal lecture mode. My face was set in a promise of attention to the speech and chagrin at my apparently stupid actions, but my mind was free to wander. I was effectively on autopilot. It was too bad I didn't have a microwave or something handy. I usually tried to time the tirade. The current record was held by my dad from a few years back, approximately forty-six minutes of nonstop talking without me able to interject more than a nod.

_And, if memory serves, that wasn't about guns. You may have a new champion._

I chanced a glance at Ellis and felt an overwhelming sense of normalcy in spite of the topic at hand. For the last couple of days, there really hadn't been a tangible sense of being in the middle of the apocalypse. True, I may not have been doing the same things, namely shooting _real _weapons of any variety, in my past life. But, at least compared to the first week we'd spent in this hell hole, things were pretty calm. This little lecture was the icing on the cake, a weirdly domestic scene in the middle of the feral world we now lived in. My lips curled up in a grin.

"Now what the _hell_ is so _damn_ funny about backfiring?" I wiped the grin off my face and settled back into my lecture poker face.

"Absolutely nothing," I said seriously, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the infectious smile from returning.


	17. Those Nights

"_We were so young and confused that we didn't know to laugh or cry…"_

The feelings of normalcy lasted almost exactly a week.

The next several days passed without incident. We all had cases of cabin fever from being stuck on the boat for so long (excursions were opposed for obvious reasons), but that was the extent of the damage. All of us slowly slipped into a state of naïve optimism. We were on a boat on a direct route to the nearest evac with plenty of gas and food. It didn't seem like there was much that could go wrong.

About a week after our rescue from the plantation house, we finally decided we were sick of wearing borrowed clothes. Virgil was definitely well-stocked as far as spare clothes went, but, for me at least, there was a simple comfort in the mundane task itself. What kind of peril could one possibly be in when required to do chores?

As soon as I dipped my soiled shirt in the bucket, the sudsy water was tinted a subtle shade of pink.

"Ugh," I complained, trying not to think of precisely _what _the chunks I was scrubbing off my clothes were, "Remind me to wash my hands…I'm gonna end up catching the plague…"

Nick, sitting with a separate bucket of cold water for blotting bloodstains out of his suit (apparently he was right about brains coming out), snorted.

"You were covered in it for a week. I'm pretty sure you would have caught something by now." I rolled my eyes and flicked a chunk of…_something_…into the river.

"Zombie-ism, maybe…mad cow disease on the other hand…" I trailed off and wrinkled my nose. "By the way, _why _are you bothering with that thing anyway?" I gestured toward the once-white suit jacket lying on the floorboards. Nick scoffed.

"That _thing _is a three thousand dollar suit, Princess." I moved my gaze slowly along the suit, stopping pointedly at each stain and tear, before responding. I shrugged.

"_Was. _I believe the term you're looking for is 'was'."

"What the hell is that?" Rochelle interjected suddenly. Our conversation was stopped in its tracks by one small comment. We craned our necks to try and see where she was pointing. There was something in the water, an indistinct shape indirectly meandering toward the boat.

"Must be a 'gator or somethin'," Ellis mumbled to himself. I shrugged and dunked my hands back in the soapy water. If I wasn't actually _in _the same body of water as the thing, I really could care less. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen them before. The past few days had definitely given me a few excuses never to go swimming here.

Apparently, the others weren't so easily convinced.

"Really? When's the last time you've seen an alligator dogpaddle?" Nick asked sarcastically. My eyebrows furrowed together and I stood up, dropping the soiled jeans back into the tub. I looked back toward the blurry shape and squinted. It really didn't look like much of anything come to think of it. A faint noise reached my ears. _That's funny. I didn't think alligators could growl…_it finally clicked for everyone a moment later.

"Ah, _shit!_" Ellis exclaimed, gripping my sides and yanking me back from the railing. I winced, but really didn't have time to complain. There was a goddamn _witch swimming _after the boat. My eyes fixed accusingly on the grumbling motor; its noise must have attracted her. My eyes narrowed in concentration.

"We need to get that motor off!" I hissed. Rochelle, being the closest to the cabin door, nodded and left as soundlessly as possible. The rest of us froze, something I would normally consider a fatal mistake in any horror movie, but who knew what would set the witch off further? She was already on edge; even the noise of a foot against the planks of the deck could make the situation worse.

_Can't really get much worse. You're stuck in one spot with a witch gaining on you and no weapons readily available. Unless she loses interest, you're pretty much screwed._

The boat's motor shut off with a cough of protest, leaving the deck bobbing slowly. I hoped that would be enough. _Please just let her leave. _It was simple and probably the closest thing to a prayer I'd uttered in a long time. My eyes were drawn to the sight of the approaching, solidifying grayish blur. It was like a car crash I couldn't look away from. I swore I wasn't breathing. The witch approached the rear of the boat inevitably, drawing forward almost as if she was _trying_ to increase the suspense. She finally reached the original source of her irritation and, seemingly confused by the lack of noise, began swimming around the side of the boat instead. I dared to let out the breath I'd been holding.

I was counting my chickens before they'd hatched. I should have known better.

Seconds after I'd convinced myself the witch would calmly pass us by, the door to the cabin opened silently and Virgil emerged with a sniper rifle in his hands, shuffling forward almost silently toward the side of the boat. The blood drained from my face. _No! She's leaving! You'll only make it worse! _But there was no way to warn him. At this close distance, talking was just as likely to startle the witch as the gun blast.

Virgil raised the weapon to his shoulder expertly, looked down the sight, and squeezed the trigger. The witch screamed.

He'd missed. Barely.

Her head was stained crimson from the bullet that had deeply grazed it. But she wasn't dead. She was _angry. _She tore over to the side of the boat and clawed blindly at whatever was in reach. My hands clenched tighter and I stared incredulously at the scene unfolding before me. Her swipes grew weaker almost immediately, the head wound taking its toll. After what was probably less than a minute, her body slumped and she fell back into the water with a loud splash. There was a beat where everyone visibly relaxed. Everything was completely silent as we examined the damage. _Not too bad…there doesn't seem to be much damage to the boat itself, so it's not like we're going to capsize. Good thing those tanks were in the way…wait. _My eyes widened. _Oh no…_

The gas tanks. She'd damaged the gas tanks.

Virgil looked over the side and cursed vehemently. He took a moment to examine the damage further, running his fingers over the tanks' sides.

"You have got to be kidding me," Nick said with a glare, "She hit the gas? She was swimming _away _you moron!" Coach shot him a half-hearted warning look. Virgil didn't even bother looking up from his work.

"Really didn' have much of a choice," he said levelly, nodding in approval at one tank. "She was goin' ahead of us. Chances are, we'd catch up with her eventually anyway." He frowned and spread something from his pocket over another tank. "Saw a clear shot, so I took it. Better'n her sneakin' on board while we were sleepin'."

"Oh, so your idea of a clear shot is shooting at a target surrounded by gas tanks?"

"Nick…" Rochelle started.

"Oh for fuck's sake! He couldn't have waited _five fucking seconds _for the bitch to swim _past _the damn tanks? He would have had his goddamn _clear shot _then!" Silence fell over all of us. It was a good point. Coach exhaled heavily.

"I'm sure any of us woulda done the same thing, Nick."

"Bullshit. I don't know about any of you, but I would have taken the time, to, I don't know, fucking think?" Another pause. Virgil, lips drawn into a tight line, stood up and wiped greasy fingers on his jeans with an air of finality. Coach sighed heavily.

"How much we got left, Virgil?" Virgil didn't say anything. He just shook his head and went into the cabin. Coach, Ellis, and I followed to find him poring over the map from a few days ago with intense concentration. My brain was trying to retain its cautious optimism and failing. I hadn't yet considered the other implications of the witch attack. I'd been more concerned with staying alive than with thinking about our gas supply. My stomach sank to my toes and my heart jumped in my throat. Did we even have enough to get to New Orleans anymore? What did that mean? _Don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it._

After what seemed like an eternity, Virgil sighed and motioned us over. He rested his palms on his thighs and began.

"We don' have enough gas to get to N'Orleans," he said flatly. The last bit of optimism was washed away with that statement. "That's the bad news," he continued. "Good news is, we're only a day 'r so away from Ducatel." He traced his finger along a seemingly random spot on the map to a crudely written-in town. "They'll have gas only a couple buildings back. Right behind the restaurant by the shore. Shouldn' be bad at all. Ya could be in 'n out 'n fifteen minutes." I scowled. I didn't like the "you". I supposed it _was _his boat, but pointedly sending strangers out on a possibly fatal mission like this was awful.

I couldn't listen to any more of this. I shook my head in disgust and left the room, jaw clenched painfully.

I started climbing to the roof of the cabin. Just as I had suspected, I'd been lulled into a false sense of security by life, then promptly shoved back in the mud. _Whatever asshole is in control must _really _be laughing it up now. _What had I been thinking? Did I seriously think we were going to get all the way to the safe zone with no further wrinkles? Smooth sailing? How could I have been so _stupid_? I _knew _better than to believe in that naïve bullshit. Why hadn't I listened to logic?

Now we were going to be thrown back into the frying pan. Given our past experiences, I wasn't exactly optimistic about our chances. There had been so many close calls already…if any of those had changed even _slightly_, not all of us would be here. It was foolish to think that wouldn't happen again. It didn't matter that we were allegedly going two blocks. One wrong move out here could get someone killed in two _feet_.

Even thinking about that swimming witch…any other way that scenario would have played out would have had us still well on our way to safety. She could have been out of earshot of the boat's obnoxious motor. Virgil could have waited for her to swim _away from the goddamn boat_. Or better, Virgil could've actually made the headshot he was aiming for rather than merely glancing her and pissing her off. _Can't have been that fucking difficult. He's probably had a gun since he was five, and he can't make a headshot with a scope at _five fucking feet_?_

"God_damn _it…" I hissed under my breath. I was _beyond _angry. _Seething_ was a better term. Just when things were stating to return to normal, relative normalcy anyway, something like this _had _to come along. Just my luck. Just _fucking _figures. I craned my head to the sky.

I realized my cheeks were wet and angrily scrubbed them away with my palm. Why did that always seem to happen? I obviously wasn't a fan of crying in general, but crying because I was angry really got on my nerves. _You're not weak. You're _furious. _Act like it. Get mad. I don't want your damn lemons…_

My flood of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone joining me on the roof. I smoothed my expression with a sigh and a lot of effort and tried to be subtle about wiping the last remaining bits of moisture from my face. I huffed one last frustrated breath and turned around. It wasn't who I expected; it was Nick. In a strange way, I was glad it was him. I didn't think I could handle anyone telling me it was all going to be okay.

"Oh," I said flatly, the neutral mask slipping from my face. Nick popped up the rest of the way.

"Don't sound so excited, Princess," he said dryly. He patted the front of his shirt absentmindedly, frowned, and sat down, leaving a generous amount of distance between us. I appreciated that; I came up there for _space_ after all.

We both remained silent for a while. What was there to say? I was the first to break the silence.

"You know, I'm pretty sure Virgil has some cigarettes," I said reluctantly, "Saw him smoking earlier." I _really _despised cigarettes. When I was walking to class, I'd make a valiant effort to speed-walk around every smoker in my path. There was nothing worse than being stuck behind a slow-moving smoker on the sidewalk. The smoke to me was poisonously rancid, so bad I half-seriously thought I was allergic. But here? Nick seemed pretty understandably pissed off. If a smoke would help, it really wasn't my place to judge. Besides, if I was going to get killed by zombies in the near future, which I considered highly likely, what was a little secondhand smoke?

Nick frowned, seeming to debate with himself. After a while, he finally shook his head.

"I'm not asking that ass clown for anything," he grumbled. I shrugged and the silence resumed.

"What do you think the odds are there's no gas when we get there?" he muttered. I snorted.

"A hundred million to one," I said mock-lightly. He snorted humorlessly.

"Rhetorical question."

"Ah." I paused and shook my head. "You know, you do that entirely too much." He raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"Pessimism? Seriously? You're going-"

"No, 'course not," I interrupted with an impatient hand motion. "The rhetorical question thing." I did a half-assed impersonation of his voice, "'What are the chances the swamp people are all zombies? What do you wanna bet this attracts a horde?' No offense, but who the hell cares? I think we're pretty well aware of how screwed we are already." He shrugged and smiled slightly.

"Just making conversation, Princess." I rolled my eyes.

"You know, technically, I _could _probably find out the probability of us being completely fucked for tomorrow…"

"What in the hell are you talking about?" I latched onto the subject immediately, hysterically throwing myself into the distraction.

"Well, we would just have to come up with a formal definition for 'fucked', combine some variables about the probability densities of each type of infected being in our vicinity at a given time, figure out if all of that can be modeled using some sort of approximation…" Nick groaned loudly.

"For God's sake, Princess, if I'm going to be dead tomorrow, the _last _fucking thing I need is to hear _that_…" I grinned.

"Sick of hearing the odds?"

"No…sick of the nerdy bullshit." I huffed once in amusement and was quiet for a few moments. I cleared my throat,

"Ahem, just to clarify, you're not up here to say tomorrow's going to work out, right?" Nick snorted.

"Seriously? I just as well told you I know there's no gas there, and you think…" he shook his head, "Actually, you're right. Tomorrow's going to go just fine…" I feigned a minor heart attack.

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with Nick?"

"…and then CEDA's going to pick us up and shoot us." I smirked.

"That's more like it…" I cocked my head to the side, "Actually, no. Tomorrow's going to go perfectly _peachy_…then the witch comes back and drains the new gas."

"Nah…actually, three tanks land on the boat and chuck all of us in the swamp." A picture of a bunch of frat boy tanks chugging the rest of our beer after they'd thrown us into the water popped into my head. I snorted.

"Tanks hijacking the boat?" He shrugged and cocked an eyebrow. _Top that._ I took in a long breath.

"Okay…a freak tropical storm shows up, flooding the entire area and washing the boat out to sea, where we finally find refuge on a desert island, only to find it occupied by cannibalistic survivors."

"In this weather? Not a chance. Virgil the asshat somehow fucks up the directions. We hit an iceberg and capsize." I laughed out loud.

"Okay, for one the Atlantic is _east _and we're going _west_…"

"So?"

"_Nobody _fucks up directions _that _bad! We'd have to end up in the Gulf of Mexico somehow, not realizing we're still in a river, follow that to the Atlantic and _still _not notice we're completely fucked up…"

"Anything's possible with that jackass." I shook my head.

"No, no…I'm not disagreeing with _that_," I laughed, "It's fucking _cold _up there and, as far as I know, we're not properly equipped; we'd _freeze to death _first!" We both laughed a little at that. I stood up to get some food. "You know, Nick? For an annoying dick, you're not so bad."

"Yeah? I suppose you're not such a spoiled little bitch either." I rolled my eyes and held out my hand.

"Well, it's been a pleasure working with you."

"Same." He formally shook my hand once and headed for the deck. As I returned to the cabin, it occurred to me that the two of us weren't so different.

*/*/*/*/*

Thunder rolled in the distance outside, joining the steady drizzle of rain on the rooftop.

I couldn't sleep, no matter _what _I tried. My brain simply wouldn't shut off. Everything could be over in seconds tomorrow. I shifted and felt Ellis' arm tighten against my midsection in response. Would this be the last night like this? I had gotten far too accustomed to sleeping like this, with Ellis' body curled protectively around mine. What had started out as necessity had evolved to comfort and finally become habit. I was convinced, on the off chance I ever slept in my own bed again, that it wouldn't feel quite right.

I shifted. Nothing could replace the home and family I'd inevitably lost. It was flatly impossible. Nowhere could be home without my family, and a deeply hidden, screaming part of me knew they were already gone. But…this was the closest I thought I'd ever come. A group of five mismatched people left alone at the end of the world. And whoever was in charge decided to try its damndest to take that away too.

Another clap of thunder sounded, closer this time, and I jumped. That decided it. I wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. It was bad enough I couldn't shut my mind off without the weather having an impromptu rock concert. My eyes opened narrowly and I let out a long, frustrated breath before beginning to scoot down the mattress. The arms around me loosened and Ellis rolled over.

"Where're ya goin'?" he asked tiredly. I sat up the rest of the way and flicked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. I forced the grimace off my face.

"Just getting some air…" I sighed. Ellis sat up the rest of the way.

"Can't sleep either?" I laughed shortly.

"Nope."

"Mind if I come with ya?" A ghost of a smile crossed my face.

"Sure." He gathered up one of the blankets from the bed in his arms and we tiptoed up the stairs, managing to pass through the main cabin without waking everybody up. _If they're actually sleeping anyway._ I shut the door behind us with a soft click, barely audible over the storm.

I drew in a sharp breath through my nose at the temperature change, rubbing at the goose bumps rising on my arms as I followed Ellis to the side of the cabin. He wedged himself in between a few crates, one of the few dry spots on the deck, and patted the ground in front of him. I sat between his legs and he curled the old blanket around us in a snug cocoon. We sat there watching the storm for a few minutes in complete silence, my head leaning against his chest and his hands lightly rubbing my upper arms.

"Remember that time we tried to make popcorn in the bathtub?" he blurted out. I barely held back a snort.

"Damn near set the safe house on fire, as I recall." I said casually, relaxing a little. We had found a few bags of microwaveable popcorn in the swamp safe room, but obviously didn't have a microwave…or any electricity for that matter. So, everyone but me and Ellis being otherwise occupied, we figured all we really needed was a heat source. We made a quick trip outside, claiming vaguely we were looking for "supplies", and picked up some reasonably dry firewood.

When we got back, we somehow managed to "borrow" Nick's lighter and get a small, smoky fire going in the broken bathtub, one of the only nonflammable surfaces in the safe house. We knew we were pushing our luck trying this at all, but trying to stay in one place outside too long was practically suicide.

Practical as we both were, neither of us thought it was necessary to take the popcorn out of the bag. We just needed to hold it far enough away from the fire, right? We were quickly proven wrong when the bag caught on fire and dropped unceremoniously into the smoldering tub. The safe house smelled like burnt popcorn for _days _after that…

"Man, was Coach _pissed_…" Ellis commented nostalgically.

"That was nothing. Remember the hissy fit Nick had over that goddamn lighter?"

"Way I see it, he should've jus' been happy it still _worked_." I nodded slowly, a smile still on my face. I could see what he was trying to do: fix me up again. It was funny, even when I wasn't outwardly a blithering wreck, he seemed to know what I needed. Not direct "everything is going to be okay" comfort. Definitely not that. But the calm, distracting nostalgia was a nice change of pace. If nothing else, it temporarily occupied my thoughts with something other than the impending deaths of myself and my few remaining friends. That in mind, I decided to contribute,

"Remember when Nick almost pissed off that witch because he wouldn't go in the swamp water?" My efforts were rewarded with an odd snort of laughter.

"What? It's a three-thousand dollar suit," he muttered, doing a more than passable imitation of Nick.

As we managed to laugh about the events of the past weeks, I began to fully appreciate the situation I had gotten myself into. I had never been a very social person. I had always avoided exposing any of my weaknesses to anyone like the plague. I'd never felt a sense of mutual dependency like this…a feeling that I could tell him anything and he could do the same with me.

I remembered all those late night talks, especially since we'd been picked up by Virgil, where the conversation could turn seamlessly from the most insignificant bullshitting to our worst fears in an instant.

Over the short period of time since we had met, almost all the barriers between us were _gone_. That had…never happened before. Not outside of my family. Not on the same scale. And _certainly _not with the _other _reactions I had been having.

The constant blushing…my pulse quickening whenever we were close…

No. I couldn't say it yet, but it was definitely _something_. Growing, if not entirely there.

The realization growing from these conclusions somehow made me simultaneously terrified and giddy.

Given what lay in our future, terror won out, but I did a damn good job of hiding it. Now was not the time. Now was the time to think about pure _survival_. Everything else could wait, preferably until we'd all reached the safe zone in one piece.


	18. Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

"_I know I can't slow down, I can't hold back, though you know I wish I could…"_

I woke reluctantly. Even in my blurry, half-awake state, I knew nothing good would come of today. As I finally blinked completely awake, I remembered exactly _why _I didn't want this day to start. I sighed and brushed a few strands of damp hair out of my face. Then I realized I was being watched.

"Morning," Rochelle said quietly. She was standing in front of us, watching us with puffy eyes I immediately associated with lack of sleep.

"Morning," I responded groggily, defensively thinking she would start in on the awkward sleeping situation I had put myself in again. To my surprise and relief, she left it alone.

"Virgil says we'll be at the dock in an hour or so. Probably should eat something before we go."

"Yeah…" I muttered indistinctly. She nodded and walked inside. I allowed myself a few more seconds before resigning myself to whatever was going to happen and starting to get up.

"Ellis…" I whispered. He stirred a little, but kept his eyes firmly shut.

"Mmmm…we there already?"

"Not quite. Rochelle said it'd be about an hour." He breathed heavily through his nose and got up reluctantly. I stretched my cramped muscles and groaned. "Okay, next time, I vote we stay in the damn bed…" _Next time. Huh. How optimistic of you. _He looked at me funny for a second, then laughed and cracked his knuckles emphatically.

"Sounds like a plan."

We all got through breakfast in a rush. There didn't seem to be much sense in lingering. The best thing to do was get this over with. I was one of the first to leave, stuffing my machete in my belt and scaling the roof to be alone. I needed time to recompose myself. In other words, Princess Pessimism came back with an unholy vengeance.

_Okay. So, more likely than not, things will turn out badly. I'm guessing it'll be more than two blocks to get to gas…and none of you have really used your weapons for a week. So you might as well add "unprepared" to your list. Nonetheless, there's no point dwelling on it until it happens. No point in being an optimistic, naïve moron either, but I digress. Just take things in stride. You've survived before, and damn it, you're going to at least _try _to do it again. _

_ And everything else? Stop fucking thinking about it. There's no point. All you'll do is incapacitate yourself. You're enough of a pain in the ass to lug around as it is. Not that you couldn't hit the broad side of a barn or anything; you could…with a scope…and no wind. So don't you dare think about it. Get it out of your system now if you need to. Your family's dead. You're probably going to be dead in the near future. You're in…you have a big stupid…crush…on one of your teammates that _will not _lead to anything distracting. Your teammates will likely be dead in the near future. I think that about covers it, don't you?_

My brain reluctantly slipped back into survival mode. Extraneous thought was _not _permitted. It could get me or someone else killed easily. Nevertheless…it wouldn't work completely. There were things I still needed to work through.

I desperately wanted to say something. Truth be told, I was fucking terrified of returning to our previous reality of having to fight for our lives. I was a lot of things, but I wasn't stupid. I fully realized the possibility some, or all, of us wouldn't come back. Wouldn't it be better to put everything, no matter how tentative, on the table? Get it off my chest? Not have to live the rest of my life knowing I hadn't taken a chance?

_That'll only make it worse, you know. It would be distracting at best. What kind of assurance do you _really _have that this isn't a one-way road anyway? You're probably reading far too much into things…as usual. It's bad enough you've admitted anything to yourself. You're busy thinking about the worst case scenario. Well, what about the second worst? What if you don't come back? Assuming you're not just making mountains out of molehills, _that _is not something you want to saddle him with. Not right now._

I sighed in resignation. As usual, logic was right. Why I didn't use my brain more often was beyond me. Emotional decisions never turned out right.

I picked up my machete with a clammy palm and gave it a few experimental swings. I concentrated on my practice, washing unwanted emotion away from the surface. As I choked back words, I allowed a mask of calm to float up, neatly covering other distractions. I closed my eyes and spoke in my head to someone I wasn't sure was there.

_I know I haven't spoken with you in a while. Frankly, I've been more than a little pissed off. What purpose did you have when you let this happen? What _possible _reasons could you have for killing everyone I loved?_

_ But I can't focus on that right now. I've learned a lot the past couple of weeks. I can't change the past. I wish I could, more than anything I've ever wanted._

_ Today we're going back into this mess. I really wish I wouldn't be proven right all the time. I just need to ask one thing. Please keep all of us safe today._

Too soon for my taste, I felt the boat slow and saw a distant dock. I carefully slid my machete into my belt and climbed down the ladder to the deck. The rest of the team was waiting by the railing. I took my place next to Ellis and exhaled slowly, noticing a fine tremor starting in my hands as the boat approached its destination. Suppressing raw terror wasn't easy.

Something grasped my left hand and I fought the urge to jump. I looked down at our intertwined fingers as Ellis gave mine a comforting squeeze. Almost out of reflex, my hand squeezed back and I met his eyes with a shaky smile before letting go.

We stepped on the dock; the ground felt deceptively solid under my feet. Virgil leaned his head out the cabin's window,

"Now I'll throw the anchor just off the shore, waitin' for ya." He started pulling away from the dock. "Signal at me when you get the gas." The sound of the engine faded and we turned toward the building in front of us. Rochelle let out a breath.

"This should be easy," she said, almost to herself, "We just need to grab some diesel."

"You wanna hear a prediction?" Nick asked. Everyone rolled their eyes.

"Nope," Ellis said fake-cheerfully.

"No," Coach said firmly. Nick ignored everyone.

"There's not gonna be any gas," he repeated, "Watch." I knew he was right, instinctively, but it hardly mattered. "By the way, what are we supposed to signal him with?"

"Oh, there's flares in the gun bag," Ellis responded.

"_What _gun bag?" There was a brief silence.

"You didn't grab the _guns_?" Ellis asked incredulously. Nick scowled.

"_Me?_ Who died and made me gun monitor?"

"Pretty much everybody!" _Oh boy. Looks like we're off to a _fantastic _start. Everyone's picking at each other, and you're the only one who remembered a weapon._

"Look here," Coach started, deep voice carrying over everything else. "The gas station's right across the street. We coulda already been there and back by now. Come on." We went into the nearest building, some fast food restaurant I'd never heard of. I frankly didn't care much; I was more interested in the guns, ammo, bombs, and first aid kits strewn haphazardly around the tables. This was obviously another site of someone's last stand. Coach, having eaten not thirty minutes ago, started rambling about food as he selected a shotgun and a few pipe bombs,

"Man, I sure wish the Burger Tank was open. I could go for a BBQ bacon burger…and a large order of fries…and an orange soda with no ice…and a piece of hot apple pie." Most of us rolled our eyes, but resisted the urge to comment. There was a strong desire among all of us to just get this trip over with. There was no point in prolonging it with something that trivial.

Once we'd loaded up, we left the Burger Tank to find something that sent any lingering optimism regarding our mission running for the hills. There _was _no gas here. Coach read the sign and shook his head,

"Next gas two miles. Hope Virgil likes waitin', 'cause it looks like we're goin' for a walk." Nick was visibly seething,

"No gas. See? What'd I say?" Ugh. If there was one thing _no one _wanted to hear right then, it was "I told you so."

"Can it, Nick," Rochelle snapped, giving voice to my annoyance. Nick glared and continued,

"And anyway, what makes you think _they _still have gas?" He cocked his head in the direction of the defiantly flashing sign. Coach sighed pointedly,

"'Cause if they don't, we're gonna be stuck here forever, Nick." It seemed to be exactly the thing to shut Nick up. Brutal honesty. "Alright, quit whinin'," Coach continued, "We just gotta hike to this Ducatel diesel." _Yup. Just like we _just_ had to get to the stadium and the boat. Just freaking peachy._ I was going to drive myself crazy. I took a deep breath and focused on detaching myself from the situation as much as humanly possible. If I let myself know it was real, I would end up screaming. I shrugged with an effort.

"Well," I started a little too loudly, "Might as well get this over with…" We started away from the sign, climbing up a ramp over a fence. I felt a drop of water hit my nose and jumped about half a mile. _Good thing you're at the back of the group. You look like a tool._ I glared at the appropriately gathering misty gray clouds. Ellis nudged my shoulder,

"You okay?"

"Nope," I said cheerfully, turning to climb a ladder up the rear of an RV. As soon as my feet hit the ground again, he grabbed my wrist. I tried forcing a smile on my face and turned to look at him. "What? I'm fine." It didn't sound very convincing. His lips pressed into a thin line.

"Kate…you're doin' the same thing from the swamp, aren't ya?" It came out sounding like an accusation. It took me a beat to even remember what he was talking about.

"No, I'm not," I answered reflexively. "Besides, I haven't even gotten a chance to shoot at anything yet, so it's not exactly-"

"Sure it is," he interrupted exasperatedly, "You're bein' reckless as hell." My eyes narrowed,

"_Reckless?_" Had it been anyone but him, I would have had _significantly_ more reaction. Before I had a chance to do much else, Nick cut in impatiently,

"Not that I'm not willing to leave you dumbshits behind, but we're burning daylight here! Let's _go_!" He was definitely right. It wouldn't do anyone any good to fall behind. I turned to catch up, but realized I was still being held back. I turned back with a guarded look.

"Jus'…be careful, okay?" he asked with an odd intensity, "Don't do nothin' stupid." He was just as scared shitless as I was. I softened almost immediately and offered a half smile.

"You too. I…" I trailed off and shook my head helplessly. _Enough, already. Time to move on. _I squeezed his hand and released it. "Let's just get through today, okay?" He smiled back,

"Okay." We headed back to the rest of the group in silence.

Walking through the town was surprisingly easy. We ran into absolutely no resistance, despite our well-warranted pessimism. There were a few scattered commons, several of which wore neon yellow vests (which made them incredibly easy to target when the need arose), but nothing major. I kept imagining I could hear the distant screech of a hunter or the hacking cough of a smoker, but they never turned up. Even the distant crashing turned out to be mere thunder.

_Suspiciously easy._

We made a few perfunctory searches of the worn-out houses in the area, but didn't really gain anything. I suppose Coach was half hoping we could find someone who had decided to stockpile gas. We found the usual guns and ammo, of course, some spilled haphazardly near conspicuous bloodstains on the floor, others still sitting innocently in their cases, well-oiled and never fired. It might have been a goldmine for us before Burger Tank, but there _was _a finite number of guns our group could carry, not even considering that we needed to save space for carrying the alleged gas when we found it. Given our previous "luck," Coach insisted on trying one last house before giving up. A horrible stench, worse than most of the others, hit us as soon as we opened the door.

"Great," Nick muttered, "With all this bullshit, we could've been to the gas station, screwed over and died by now." It earned him a not-so-soft punch in the arm from Rochelle. "What the _hell_, Rochelle?" he complained loudly. I heard someone gasp sharply. _Bit of an overreaction, don't you think?_ Something about the sound didn't quite seem right. Rochelle glared at Nick pointedly,

"Not very damn good at shutting up, are you?" That was when it clicked. The gasp had been _feminine_…and given that _I _hadn't done it, and Rochelle was in my line of sight the entire time, there was only one logical conclusion. I froze.

"_Shut up!_" I hissed under my breath. Nick snorted,

"Oh, that's fine. Everyone jump on the band-" He was interrupted by a sharp crack and shower of splinters as something blew a hole in the door behind him, supplementing the stench already permeating the house. I tensed and the rest of the group cocked our considerable arsenal at the hole in the door. What I expected was an insane witch, clawing the rest of the door down faster than we could shoot.

And it _was _a witch…but she wasn't doing anything now that we were silent. She just stood there, deadly claws dangling unthreateningly by her sides, filthy shirt coated in God-knows-what. She looked…_confused_. Disoriented. Her disturbingly red eyes blinked once, and her eyebrows drew together in concentration. She opened her mouth, closed it, and turned around. There was a sound of sinking bed springs before the mournful crying started, progressing eerily from recognizably human to the typical, echoing witch moans in moments.

We all sat there, doing absolutely nothing for a minute. What could this mean? The woman was obviously infected, but she seemed much more…present than the others. She'd looked almost _sane _for a minute. Coach finally snapped us out of our trance, silently but insistently gesturing toward the exit. We quickly filed out of the house. Whatever the reasons behind this abnormal witch, she was unpredictable. As soon as the door softly clicked shut behind us, we let out a collective sigh of relief.

"That witch…tried to _talk _to us," Ellis said in astonishment. Nick shrugged,

"Probably just wasn't fully infected yet. Give her another five minutes, and she'll be ready to tear your face off." It still didn't seem to fit. If this whole town had been infected (judging by the usual scattering of blood spatters and weapons everywhere), I doubted this woman, whoever she was, could have avoided infection for so long. It had only taken a few days for Amy. _If that._ The world had been infected for going on three weeks now. It just didn't make sense. Ellis opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off before he could start.

"Let's just…get out of here. Nick's probably right…and we _don't_ want to be around when she fully turns," I said dully, rubbing my right arm subconsciously. I shrugged, "Seen it happen before." All things considered, it didn't _matter _that it didn't make sense. There was only one way to test my tenuous theory: going back. If I was wrong, it would be suicide. And this woman was _not _on the short list of people I'd risk my life for. _Sorry…whoever you are._

_ Were._

We moved on, meeting the same dearth of resistance as before. We passed through an abandoned playground, and the softly creaking equipment reminded me sharply of the blood-encrusted bikes and toys lying in front of the plantation house. _Maybe she had kids. Maybe they're looking for her…or…_I shivered and shoved the thought away. It was bad enough thinking about what had happened to my own friends and family without adding unknowns to the list.

As we walked, the clouds above us darkened and seemed to draw closer to the ground. It gave me the claustrophobic sensation of being in a dark tunnel, despite the fact that it was still relatively sunny. I noticed small hash marks on the dusty ground ahead of us as it started sporadically sprinkling. _Great. Let's go ahead and add "low visibility" to the List of Why We're Completely and Totally Fucked._

I thought I was going insane when I first started hearing noises near a disorganized garage sale. Everything else had turned out to be something more or less harmless: thunder, rain, the wind. So I doubted they were anything to worry about. The growling I heard in the background was probably just the obnoxious storm again. The deep pounding could also be attributed to the weather. Given that we'd encountered all of twenty infected the entire day, not all of which had posed a threat, how could the growling be a _hunter_? How could the pounding be a _tank_?

But I knew I was fooling myself. This was different. Every time one of the noises started up, we would _all _react; it couldn't possibly be in my head or a trick of the wind. We all started walking a little faster, and I bothered to slide my machete out of my belt. I deluded myself once again, thinking I was unsheathing it "just in case," not because there was anything real to be worried about.

We were almost to the safe house when we heard the undeniable flying screech of a hunter. Everyone froze, pointing weapons in the perceived direction of the infected. I held my weapon in front of my body, hoping to at least _block _the thing if it came my way. My pulse pounded in my ears and my mouth dried as I scanned the surrounding rooftops and trees for any sign of the hunter.

The screeching sounded again, from a different direction this time.

"Alright," Coach said in a forcedly calm tone. He motioned toward the red door and started backing slowly toward it. The rest of us took the hint and followed suit, forcing ourselves to move slowly in hopes of not antagonizing the hunter further. _Just a few more steps. You can do this. Keep calm. Don't do anything to set them off…_

Of course it didn't matter. We made it to the stairs before the attack started. Two hunters sprang from the gathering darkness and tackled me and Rochelle to the ground. I kept my machete thrust in front of me, bracing myself to bar the hunter from causing too much damage. Luckily, the hunters' strategy of attacking the smallest members of the group worked to our advantage. They'd left the best shots of the team standing. Almost as soon as we were thrown to the stairs, the hunters went limp and fell to the side.

"Let's _go_!" Nick shouted. Someone grabbed my hand and half dragged me up a few steps before I managed to find my feet again. To my disbelief, I could hear _more _hunter screeches behind us. _There's a whole fucking pack of them! _Move _it! _I scrambled for the door even faster, finally diving inside to relative safety. As I landed, I felt a sharp pain in my leg, but ignored it. We had other priorities.

I dropped my machete and jumped at the door with the others, helping to hold it shut just as another hunter collided with it.

"_Get the goddamn bar on!_" Coach boomed, driving his shoulder harder against the shifting door.

"What the hell do you think I'm _trying _to do?" Nick shouted back, finally grabbing the door's bar and slamming it into place with a final bang. As we backed away from the door, someone killed the nearest hunter with a neat headshot. The rest, _at least _ten from what I could see, slunk grudgingly back into the background. I sank to the ground as the adrenaline wore off.

No, this would definitely not be as hard as I thought…it would be a hell of a lot _harder_.


	19. I Will Not Bow

"_All is lost again, but I'm not giving in!"_

As the effect of adrenaline ebbed, I realized I hurt everywhere again. There was a painful throbbing at the back of my head where I'd hit the stairs. My mouth tasted coppery; I must have bitten my cheek. Even my older complaints were flaring up again. I fervently hoped my stitches hadn't torn. I didn't have the stomach to unwrap my arm and check.

I made to get up, but instead hissed quietly and sank back as I felt a sharp, stinging pain in my right leg. I reflexively covered the area with my hands, then realized Coach was kneeling next to me.

"Here, lemme see it," he said, moving my hands away. The source of my discomfort was a cut hidden under a slash in my jeans a good seven inches long. I looked at it for a second, then my gaze drifted toward my discarded machete, several feet away on the floor. I shook my head. The cut had nothing to do with the hunters; I had managed to fall on my own weapon. I grimaced as Coach probed the edges of the wound.

"Not too deep," he concluded. _Good. That means you can suck it up and walk on it._

"What's not too deep?" Ellis demanded, turning away from his post at the door and nearly whipping Nick in the head with his rifle in the process. Nick glared at him, but, for once, said nothing. I shrugged.

"It's nothing," I said, "Just fell on my machete…" Ellis frowned. _Smooth. That certainly _sounds _like nothing._

"Maybe you shouldn't be carrying that thing around then," Nick said peevishly. _So I can go back to being even _more _useless and missing every shot I take? Pass._ I rolled my eyes.

"I'll take it under consideration," I said dryly. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" I took a first aid kit off the table and headed for the stairs. Ellis followed, and I sighed heavily as soon as we turned the corner.

"Seriously, I fell on my _machete_ trying to get in the _door_," I whispered exasperatedly. His mouth twisted into an almost-smile.

"I was jus' gonna ask if ya needed any help," he whispered back. I blinked once.

"Oh," I said, mollified. My lips pressed together. I smiled sheepishly, "Sorry. Jumpy, I guess." He grinned back.

"Not a problem." I waited for a moment. He didn't move.

"Um…I should probably...take care of this now…" I trailed off.

"Sure ya don't need any help?" I reddened, but managed a small, tight smile.

"Positive." Especially since the cut was superficial, I wasn't about to accept any help. Not to mention I needed to take my _pants_ off to _get _to the wound…

He was still standing there.

I frowned. I wasn't the most perceptive person on the planet, but something was definitely off. I lowered my voice a little more, "What's wrong?" He glanced back the way we came and rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed to be at a loss for words, so I uncharacteristically compensated, grabbing his hand and practically dragging him down the stairs. I pushed on his shoulders to sit him on the bottom step, ignoring the muttering complaints from my new injury, and took a step back.

"Alright," I said, "Close your eyes, and start talking." His mouth twitched.

"Close my eyes?" I rolled my eyes and gestured toward the subtle rust-colored stain on my leg.

"I have to take off my pants," I said bluntly. I would have just moved to the area next to the stairs, but then I probably wouldn't have been able to hear him whispering. I assumed whatever he wanted to talk about was meant to be private. He half-smiled and reddened a little before closing his eyes. I paused for just a second, making sure they would _stay_ that way, then dismissed the idea as ridiculous. I started working.

"So…the machete thing?" I guessed when he didn't start. His mouth twitched.

"No…I was thinkin' 'bout…that witch." My lips pressed into a thin line.

"She's just another witch, Ellis," I said unconvincingly. "There wasn't anything we could've done."

"But she was tryin' to _talk _to us. You ever seen a witch do somethin' like that?" I sighed.

"No," I admitted. "Usually they tend to be too busy trying to rip your face off to start a conversation."

"That's jus' it," he said. There was another long pause. I took advantage of the time to get the job of fixing myself up done as quickly as I could, smearing a generous amount of antibiotic and wrapping the whole mess in gauze. It was far from professional, but it would hold.

"You can open your eyes now," I said, sitting next to him. His eyes opened. "What do you mean?" I prompted.

"That all the witches we've seen before were totally batshit insane…so why was this one any different?" I shrugged.

"She could still be transforming," I said weakly. Ellis was already shaking his head.

"No way…you see the blood on her?"

"Have you seen the blood on us?" I reminded him.

"It was _old_, Kate. So's ours," he gestured toward a few stains on our clothes that washing hadn't completely eliminated, "But we're still…"

"Normal?" He nodded.

"Maybe she was actually gettin' better…maybe if we'd've waited another couple of minutes, _she _coulda told us what happened…" I took a deep breath.

"And maybe she would've gotten pissed off again and started attacking us for real." His eyes hardened and I worked quickly to explain, playing absently with a stray string on my shirt rather than meeting his glare. "My friend…the one who messed up my arm…she was okay for a second too. I came in to check on her and found her crying in the corner. When I tried to touch her…well…" I flopped my right arm once in explanation. "But she _stopped_. She took one look at me and went back to her corner." I paused for another second, shook my head at my own cowardice and lifted my head again, looking Ellis square in the eyes. "Then, not fifteen minutes later, she tried to attack me _again_. She broke the window on my car. I _barely_ got away." Ellis still looked dubious, but was visibly wavering.

"Just 'cause one witch acted like that doesn't mean…"

"Exactly," I interrupted. "From what we've seen, Amy was _normal_ among witches. There's no reason to think otherwise. The simplest explanation is usually the right one." His gaze intensified.

"But we coulda been wrong." I narrowed my eyes and put as much force behind my words as I could,

"I am _not_ putting our lives on the line for someone who may or may not try to kill us."

"But if there's even a _chance_…" He trailed off and let out a long breath. There was a short pause before he abruptly changed course. "You ever think about how many people we've killed?" I opened and closed my mouth in shock, trying to come up with the right answer. I didn't want to start something like this. I didn't want to think about it yet…if at all. A million bullshit answers ran through my head. _Not really. I mean, _they're _attacking _us. _It's all just self-defense. Better them than me._ But it was too hard to lie, even to myself.

"I…try not to think about it," I said finally. If nothing else, it was an honest answer. If I ever _really _stopped to think about it, I wouldn't know how to deal with it. Sure, everyone I'd killed had been trying to kill me, but did that really _matter_? They were still human, regardless of the infection. And even disregarding that, how many times had I callously forced myself to think of my situation as a game, if only to dull the constant fear of death? It wasn't hard to draw the line from all that to adjectives like "murderer" and "monster."

"I mean, what if they're still…in there?" he started, "What if they know what's goin' on around them, but they can't _control _anything?" I shrugged tiredly.

"I don't really see another way around it. Either way, they _are _trying to kill us." I sighed heavily. "Look, to be perfectly blunt, most of the time it's either them or us. And I choose us. Every time." He started to say something, but I cut him off, reaching for his hand. He squeezed back with little hesitation. "You can't save them all, Ellis," I said firmly, "But, we're trying the best we can."

We stayed there for a few more minutes, silent, before finally returning to the main area of the safe house. Everyone was standing in the middle of the room, leaning against the shelves. I boosted myself onto a table.

"Looks like the bastards aren't coming back," Nick said, "They bolted as soon as we got inside."

"Which probably means they're waiting for us," I said matter-of-factly.

"_And _we don't have time to wait for them," Rochelle added. Nick nodded,

"Yeah…no way to know how long the boat'll stay here." Coach frowned,

"C'mon, Nick. Virgil ain't gonna just _leave _us here," Nick snorted.

"With that storm coming? Given enough time, _I'd _leave us here." _Bullshit._ I didn't really buy that from Nick, not anymore, anyway. But Virgil…I didn't really know him at all, did I? He didn't really strike me as the self-sacrificing type, especially for people he didn't know. Then something obvious struck me. I chuckled and smacked my forehead.

"What's so damn funny?" Nick asked. I exhaled once,

"Nothing…just thinking it would be kind of hard for Virgil to leave without any _gas_." Everyone but Coach had to smile at that. His frown deepened.

"He wouldn't leave us either way," he insisted. I covered up a snort with an unconvincing cough.

"Sure, sure…"

We weren't exactly thrilled to leave the safety of the room, but it would be kind of difficult to retrieve gas sitting on our asses. We'd killed at least an hour already waiting for the hunters to come back; we couldn't afford to lose any more time. When we finally left, we were greeted with another blinking sign, this one declaring gas to be a mere _mile_ away now, and a hastily scrawled banner across an old warehouse: _STAY AWAY! WITCHES!_ Nick snorted.

"Well, _that's_ encouraging," he muttered. There wasn't any response. I was pretty sure the plural in that sign was justifiably bothersome. We stepped cautiously into the warehouse, still on maximum alert. Any lingering sense of safety from the last leg of our trip had been completely eliminated.

I scanned the entire room, trying to make out the outline of a hunter I was _convinced_ lay in wait…especially since it was so damn _dark _in there. Not to mention there were countless places in the ruined ceiling for the pack to hide in. But, though I felt I could still hear a faint growl, nothing appeared. That was worse than anything else. It would have been so much easier for them to just show up again, getting the inevitable encounter over with as quickly as possible. We made a perfunctory search of an office on the first floor, finding nothing but an old, mostly headless corpse and a pistol. I shoved the gun in my belt and we moved on. Outside, the intermittent sprinkling had turned to steady rain. Rochelle looked at the sky nervously,

"Um, does it flood around here?" Coach shrugged,

"Probably. The houses back there were all on stilts." He noticed the grimace on Rochelle's face and quickly backpedaled, "But I doubt we're gonna be around long enough for that. We're only a mile away now. Storms come up fast, but we should make it." If it wasn't for the last sentence, we _might_ have been reassured. Personally, "storms come up fast" just made me walk faster.

"I ever tell you about the time my buddy Keith drove his car off a cliff, broke both his legs?" Ellis started out of nowhere, obviously trying hard to break the uncomfortable silence, "It's not a funny ha-ha story so much as a make-you-think story. For instance, windshields look pretty durable, right? Not the case, according to Keith. Son of a bitch flew right through that sucker—"

"Ellis, I am _so_ not in the mood for this right now," Nick interrupted. I put my free hand lightly on Ellis' arm as soon as Nick turned back to the front again, offering a small smile and an eye roll to show I understood what he had been trying to do, and that Nick was being a jackass again. I dropped my hand and lowered my voice,

"You know, I saw something on TV once where a guy was trying to break through a windshield. Just body slammed the damn thing." Ellis chuckled under his breath and opened his mouth to speak. I cut him off. "Lemme guess," I whispered dryly, "Keith already did it?" It was starting to become kind of the _Jackass _version of "_Simpsons _did it." He snorted.

"Yeah…didn't break through it right away neither. Kept on running into the damn thing elbow first until his whole _arm_ was torn all to hell." I raised my eyebrows, encouraging him to continue. "Took him _months_ to grow back all the skin…_still_ don't have no feelin' in half his left arm no more." I laughed quietly, trying to keep it at a volume that wouldn't disturb Nick.

Each of us had our own way of coping with extreme stress. Coach took on a protective father role; Nick pretended he was above the whole situation, or merely annoyed by it; Rochelle seemed to imagine everything was just a bad dream; and I hid everything inside and took everything out on the infected in a perverse catharsis (dealing with the actual _root_ of the problem later, with Ellis). This sometimes rambling storytelling was Ellis' way of staying sane while we were out in the apocalypse. Who was I to deny him his outlet? Besides, concentrating on what someone else was saying rather than the situation at hand was a more than welcome distraction.

The rain continued to fall even faster, darkening the sky to a dull gray and making it even harder to see. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot we could do about it either. Most of us (everyone but me, since I wasn't carrying a _real_ gun) had flashlights mounted on their weapons, but they hardly made a dent in the gathering dusk. If anything, it made matters worse. Not only could we not see a damn thing that was going on, the haphazard lighting was making us jump and shoot at shadows.

We exited a small shed and found ourselves outside again, walking through an area littered with catwalks and metal pipes. _Wait!_ I stopped abruptly in my tracks. I could have sworn I'd heard something. I listened for a second before catching it again, the sound carrying just barely over the rain.

"Stop!" I hissed as loudly as I dared. The rest of the group stopped. Nick turned around, annoyed.

"What _now_?" he complained. I ran my gaze over the scene in front of me, searching for something.

"Witch," I said, "I _know_ I heard one." Nick opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, a surprisingly silent jockey landed hard on his back, steering him away from the group. Before I could do anything about it, I was barreled into by a hunter. There were a few chaotic shouts, indistinguishable as words through the violent pounding of blood in my head. I was distantly thankful for the rain as my head made contact with the muddy ground, softening the impact.

This time, I wasn't prepared. The machete that had protected me from the worst of the damage previously was pinned uselessly against my leg. As if that wasn't enough, the boomer spewed on someone and attracted a horde. I couldn't see anything but a mass of stumbling feet and the hunter perched on top of me. The hunter's first swipe was mostly superficial, opening up a small cut on my cheek. It was _playing_ with me. Why? Usually these things would take any opportunity they could get, knowing their chances would be brief. But now, it was lingering. All it would take was a quick swipe to the throat, and it would be over. Then it struck me…the whole goddamn _pack_ was probably out here. A cacophony of sound echoed around me. I heard the retching sound of a boomer, the multi-throated screech of the hunter pack, and the bone-chilling scream of a disturbed witch. The hunter had all the time in the world.

I heard the gunfire rapping out around me and I realized I was on my own, at least for now. And who knew how long I had until the hunter tired of its game? I narrowed my eyes. I was ready for the next attack, swinging my head out of the way just in time. The hunter let out a growl of frustration and clawed at my other side. I rolled to the opposite side, taking the off-balance hunter with me. I ended up on my side with my legs free. Not wasting any time, I coiled my leg back and drove my knee between the hunter's legs with as much strength as I could muster. It released me almost immediately and coiled around itself. I managed a smile as I drew the pistol from my belt. _Yeah, they may be crazy, flesh-eating monsters, but they're still only human._

I felt a small pang in my chest as I cocked the pistol, thinking back on the conversation I'd had with Ellis minutes ago. _Shoot it, stupid! It'll get up and attack you again! Make a goddamn choice! _Before I could allow myself to think about it any longer, I pulled the trigger, driving a bullet through the hunter's forehead. Now was not the time to think about the moral implications of everything we were doing. Plenty of time for that later. For now, I would do what I needed to.

I whipped my head around, looking for the rest of my team, but saw nothing. Half the horde lay dead on the ground; the rest presumably followed them. I felt a brief flare of anger at somehow getting left behind before it was overwhelmed by completely justified fear. Sure, it was possible the group had just lost track of me in the middle of one of the largest hordes we'd ever faced, but there were other, more frightening possibilities.

What if the horde was too big to handle?

What if the witch got one of them? If they were too distracted to notice me go down, the bitch could've had all the time in the world to finish them off.

What if some of the hunters are still here? How would I fight them off now?

_Enough. Just stay calm._ I heard some distant gunfire and headed in that general direction. I tried my hardest not to entertain thoughts of my teammates' situation or of the things that could be lurking in the catwalks above. It seemed like an opportune spot for an ambush…especially when I was on my own. I had only gone a few steps when I heard a witch crying. _That doesn't make any sense! She stopped screaming! They must have shot her!_

"Shit," I muttered. This had to be another one. _Lovely_. I froze in my tracks and watched for the witch, spotting her almost immediately. She was pacing the _exact_ area I needed to pass to rejoin the team. I took a shaky breath and made a careful beeline for the door to my right. If I went down now, there was no way I could defend myself. A hunter was one thing—I had gotten lucky. But a witch…a couple hits from that and you were screwed. Thankfully, I made it to the door without pissing her off. _How the others passed through here without setting her off is _beyond _me. One thing to do it when there're no other distractions, quite another when you're being attacked._ I closed the door carefully behind me, hoping for some warning at least before something broke through. As soon as I turned around, I bumped into something and stifled a scream, instead exiting my mouth as an undignified squeak. A bloody hand covered my mouth almost immediately.

"Shh! Kate, it's me!" Ellis whispered, obviously aware of the threat just outside. I felt a wave of relief wash over me. While I still realized we were in danger, a less logical part of me was just happy he was alive. I took a deep breath, nodded and pulled back.

"We should move to the other side," I whispered back, "No telling how much she can hear." Ellis nodded, led me to a closet at the end of the room and quickly shut the door. As soon as we stopped, my eyes drifted down to his arm and I gasped,

"Ellis, what the hell happened to your arm?" From what I could tell, there was a pretty substantial cut on his upper arm. Blood ran in small rivulets to his hand. He shrugged,

"It's nothin'. Not as bad as it looks." I glared at him, practically ripped the first aid kit off my back, and pushed on his shoulders until he was seated against the wall. "What about your face?" he asked as I started wrapping up his arm. I snorted, blowing a piece of hair out of my eyes.

"Gee, thanks," I said dryly.

"Ya know what I meant."

"Not as bad as it looks," I said briefly, "Hunter just nicked me." It was true. Most of the blood left over on my face was just dried on. The wound had almost stopped bleeding already. His eyes darkened,

"If we wouldn't've left you—"

"Don't," I interrupted. Now was not the time. "There wasn't much you could do about it. We were being attacked by just about every goddamn infected on the planet…" He was already shaking his head.

"No! We just _assumed_ that you were _right there_…and then the witch went after Ro…and…" I finished wrapping his arm and sat back, looking at him with concern. Sure, they could've done a better job keeping track of everyone, but, from what I could tell, the entire population of Ducatel had showed up to say hi. I could hardly blame them for not paying as close of attention as they normally would…especially considering the witch.

"Ellis…" I said softly. He sighed.

"I was expectin' to find—" It struck me. _I don't know what I was expectin' to find…but there was absolutely _nothin'there_…_

"No," I interrupted. "Don't _think_ about that." In an unusual display of emotion, I scooted closer and threw my arms around his neck. He would _not_ feel this way again because of me. It hadn't been his fault with his mother, and it wasn't his fault here. Without hesitation, he returned the embrace. We sat there for a few minutes before logic returned.

"We should go," I said reluctantly. Much as I wanted to stay, obliviously ignoring the outside world, we still had a job to do. Not to mention that damn wandering witch could meander our way any second. "Where's everyone else?"

"There's a trailer not too far from here. They…stayed behind." There was a tone of guilt in his voice I couldn't quite place, but there wasn't time to figure it out right now. I nodded and pressed my palms into my thighs to get up.

We left the building carefully, determining the witch that had been there before was gone first. It made me uneasy that we couldn't actually spot her. Usually, the witches either stayed in one place or paced in a small, predictable circuit. I tightened my grip on my machete and kept following Ellis.

It didn't take long to reach the trailer; it was only a few feet away from the building we'd been in. But even through the rain, I could tell the area was suspiciously quiet. Even with the horde destroyed, as evidenced by the mass of bodies surrounding the outside of the door, there should have been _some _noise…discussions on where to go next, strategies, an argument between Nick and Rochelle…_something_. We picked up our pace and entered the trailer.

We stared at the bullet-riddled, blood spattered walls for a second in disbelief.


	20. Blow Me Away

"_No time to lose, we've got to move; steady your helm!"_

_No…this can't be right!_ Gritting my teeth, I stepped in further, examining the room and bracing myself for whatever I might find. I shook my head.

"They're still alive," I said with more conviction than I felt, "They're not in here, so they must still be alive." It was a gross parody of logic, but it would have to do. Ellis hesitated for a second before saying anything,

"Kate…"

"I'm not going to think about it right now," I insisted, "They're not here." I was repeating the phrase to myself like a mantra. I couldn't stand to lose anyone else.

_Well, if nothing else, at least…_

Don't.

I was trying my damndest to shove away the perverted feelings of relief. If it had come down to a choice of who to keep alive, I knew who I would pick. The coldness of the thought scared the hell out of me, but I wasn't about to give it voice. Ellis let out a long breath,

"Well, if we're gonna follow 'em, we should keep headin' toward the gas." I nodded shortly and headed for the door.

This was _beyond_ bad. Having two people on their own was bad enough, but when one of them was _me_? I couldn't aim worth a shit, could only effectively shoot a pistol, and mainly dealt in melee weapons. Hell, maybe Ellis would be better off alone.

_Oh, stop it. You're being a melodramatic drama queen. Think about this logically for a second. What the _hell_ do you think is going to happen if you leave and he gets snared by a smoker or something? _That conjured up an image that made me grit my teeth. _No. _Not_ going to happen._

"You okay?" Ellis asked, interrupting my train of thought. I nodded again.

"Yeah," I said, "Fine." He could probably tell I was lying through my teeth, but there wasn't time for more emotional bullshit today. We were far enough behind as it was.

_Assuming they're _actually _alive_.

"Alright," Ellis started, "Jus' stay _close_. No wanderin' off." I felt compelled to raise an eyebrow, but resisted the impulse. What, did he think I'd _voluntarily _gotten jumped by that hunter?

"Yes, sir," I said, saluting sarcastically with my pistol.

We encountered very little resistance as we continued toward the sugar mill. I forced myself to believe this was a sign Coach, Rochelle, and Nick had cleared the majority of the infected ahead of us. The fresh bodies littering the ground around us seemed to reinforce the idea. The few times anything _did_ pop up, I made sure to steady myself and aim carefully. I was trying to make the best out of the situation we'd found ourselves stuck in. I wasn't about to let my lack of capability doom us both.

Somehow, we had both realized the necessity of silence. It was one thing to joke around or idly talk during slow moments when you had three other people to watch your back. It was quite another with just the two of us. Still, it gave the apocalypse a much more grim tone than I was used to. Personally, I preferred my old delusions.

After a few minutes of picking our way through an alley full of rubble, we came to a suspiciously empty open area. The only obvious path seemed to be up a ramp to our right. It _seemed_ clear, but neither of us were willing to take the risk and walk into what could very well be an ambush. We waited for a moment, and our caution was rewarded. Two witches were pacing directly in front of the inviting ramp. I sighed heavily.

"Well…shit," I muttered. I took time to appraise the situation. _Two against two. Normally considered fair odds, here considered suicide. On your side, you have one pistol and one machete, wielded by a less-than-competent bearer, and a single shotgun. On their side, they have two sets of foot-long, razor-sharp claws and uncanny speed. If there were only one, there would be the possibility of sneaking up on it, and taking it out before it could do too much damage. With two, the second witch would be on you before you had time to blink. So fighting's out._

"We're going to have to walk around them," I whispered, mostly just thinking out loud.

"How? Ain't nowhere else to go…" Ellis responded. I watched the witches for another minute as they walked on a roughly even path, both approaching the ramp at approximately the same time.

"No…we'll have to time it," I said with more conviction than I felt. Ellis stared at me.

"You serious?"

"Sure. We've done it before."

"When they're sittin' _still_."

"Doesn't matter. Look." I gestured at the scene in front of us. "They're walking in a set pattern. From what I can tell, they'll _stay _in that pattern unless something—one of us—disturbs them." It actually seemed relatively easy…assuming we got the timing right. If we didn't…

_Then you hope you bleed out quickly._

Thanks.

I shook off my feelings of unease as best I could and started cautiously walking forward, motioning for Ellis to follow. We took an extremely circuitous route, walking as close to the outside of the cleared space as we could. This was a delicate enough operation without screwing it up before we got started. We stopped by a shed a fair distance from the ramp.

"Okay," I breathed, watching the pattern and estimating the distance to the ramp one more time. "_That_," I said, pointed to the outermost point of the first witch's circuit, "is the farthest they go out. We need to start moving when they're walking that direction, and about halfway there."

"So…wait for 'em to get there," he pointed, "then haul ass?" I grinned slightly,

"Basically." I nodded to myself and put my weapons in my belt. "Okay, next cycle, we book it." I tensed and prepared to run, leaning forward slightly and tensing the muscles in my legs. I could hear my pulse thudding in my ears as the witches blocked the ramp, almost touching, then turned away. _Bizarre. Like the changing of the guard or something._

_Okay. Ready…set…_go!

I sprang forward, my feet slipping slightly on the muddy ground. I ignored the anxious feeling my sloppy start gave me and drove myself toward my goal single-mindedly. I was only aware of the closing distance between me and the ramp, the witches beginning to turn around in my peripheral vision, and Ellis' footsteps beside me. Everything was going well, until we hit the ramp. The rain had slickened the metal surface, and, with an agonizingly loud squeak, we both tripped. Ellis managed to recover. I did not.

I fell hard on my hands, which slipped quickly and sprawled to either side of my body. I scrabbled against the slick surface and finally managed to get to my feet just as the witches neared the ramp. I clomped back up the ramp with a series of dull thuds and swore I could hear the agitated warning growls of the infected behind me. I choked back a scream I knew would only make matters worse…if possible. Before I could get very far, there was another, harder thud ahead of me, and I was suddenly being yanked forward.

Before I could make sense of what was going on, I teetered for a split second and the floor disappeared.

I was falling, and for a moment that was all I could make sense of. I hit the ground with a wet sound and was immediately rolled away from the impact. The rain was turning out to be quite a blessing. Without it, given the distance we'd fallen, I could have easily broken some ribs. As it was, I could already feel I would have a nasty bruise on my side tomorrow. The arm around me loosened and I rolled onto my back with a groan. My head flopped to the side, still trying to figure out which way was up, and I ended up facing Ellis, who seemed to be in the same situation.

"I ever tell you…" he started, pressing his palm against his forehead, "you're kind of a klutz?" I started to laugh, but grimaced when it aggravated my side.

"No…" I said, trying to regain my breath, "but you should…_definitely_…remind me…more often." The mood was peculiarly light considering the near death experience. I chalked it up to relief. We really weren't capable of doing anything but lying there. If I stood up, I was fairly certain I'd either have a heart attack or pass out cold.

"Ya know what'd be _really_ bad right now?" Ellis asked with a particularly transparent poker face.

"Hmm?" He grinned.

"A _tank_." I groaned.

"For the love of…seriously?" I slapped at his arm weakly. "Don't _jinx_ us, you jerk!" We took another couple of moments to catch our breath, smiling illogically, then gingerly got ourselves up. Laying there was just pushing our luck…what little we had.

We were in yet another maze of jumbled catwalks and pipes. The metal made the insistent rain ping distractingly all around us. Before we could so much as turn a corner, we heard yet _another _witch. This one, thankfully, was confined to a catwalk safely above us. We were able to sneak right under her without her making a noise.

"Shit," I muttered when we were safely past, "How many does that make now?" Ellis shook his head.

"At _least _five…shit, _I'm_ about to start cryin' in a minute…" I snorted. This was a little excessive. We'd encountered more witches in the past hour than we had since Whispering Oaks. I wondered what was making the difference. Was it the coming storm? Sometimes, you'd see a lot of animals running around right before it rained…not that the witches were _exactly_ animals. Still, maybe they had an instinct for it or something? I didn't want to believe they were smart enough to actually start setting traps…the hunters were bad enough as it was. I was entirely confident we wouldn't survive a run-in with a group of pack-minded witches.

_Ugh. Don't even think about it. You're going to give yourself a headache. Or more paranoia. _I sent that idea in the back of my mind, but was distracted again when I saw another sign for the Ducatel Sugar Mill in the distance.

"You know, maybe Nick was right…" I said casually.

"About what?"

"The witches," I said, pausing to gesture at the looming mill, "They're just after sugar. Must've all turned while they were PMSing." Ellis snorted.

"Naw…they'd be a _hell_ of a lot worse if that was the case." I elbowed him lightly.

"_Ellis!_"

"What, _you_ started it!" he said mock-defensively, "Besides, it's _true._ This one time, Keith's girl Kelly was tryin' to make him go out and get some…" He hesitated and reddened, "well, ya know…" I smiled widely, trying to suppress laughter at his discomfort. "…anyway, _that_ and some nasty-ass cherry M&M's. Keith wasn't about to go out in public tryin' to buy shit like _that_…told her to get it herself."

"I suppose _that_ went over well," I said dryly. Ellis nodded.

"Yeah…she started chuckin' just 'bout everything she could reach at him 'til he finally went. Finally caved when she started tryin' to yank his Xbox straight outta the wall." I grinned and shook my head. If half of the stuff Ellis said was true, his friends were completely batshit insane.

Before I was able to respond, a loud bellow rang out across the clearing we were halfway across. We both froze in our tracks. I raised my pistol in preparation, not that it would really do much against a charger. _Come on. I've made it through too much to let this stop me now. _I grit my teeth and scanned the area in front of me. _Bring it on, you ugly bastard._

Then everything happened at once.

The charger finally came barreling at us full tilt, its grotesque larger arm reaching out in a meaty claw. I managed to get off a shot before I realized it wouldn't make a difference. It was headed _right for me_. My eyes widened and my grip on my weapon slackened in the bare second before it ran into me.

I couldn't breathe. That was all I could focus on. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I noticed the flare of pain in my ribcage from the force of the impact and the crushing momentum of being carried even further. But what did a couple possibly broken ribs matter? I couldn't _breathe_. I panicked, struggling violently in the charger's grip and exacerbating the suffocating effect of having the wind knocked out of me even more. Black dots began to cloud my vision as the charger finally stopped, impeded by a wall. My struggles weakened, though my body made a token effort of resistance when the fist holding me rose, ready to pound me into the ground. Before it could though, it fell, taking me with it. Luckily, I dropped from its grip before it fell and was only pinned under the charger's disproportionately small lower body. I felt distantly relieved before the black dots swimming across my eyes overwhelmed me and I passed out.

*/*/*/*/*

_Breathe!_

I tried to do as my body commanded, but it didn't seem as if the whoops of air I was taking in were having any effect. _Calm down, you're not suffocating, but the panicking _is_ making everything worse!_ I managed to listen to myself, fighting down panic as I wheezed air back into my lungs. As logic once again took over, I felt insistent pressure under my arms and realized I was being dragged. I tried to help by pushing myself backwards on my elbows, hissing through my teeth as the motion called attention to my midsection.

"I've got ya…take it easy…shit..." My legs were finally freed from the charger's corpse, and I was brought into a painful half-sitting position. Ellis' fingers gingerly moved up my ribcage, checking the damage. I huffed out a sharp breath.

"Broken?" I asked tightly. I wished I could turn around and see his expression. People tended to bullshit about the extent of injuries. He sighed.

"I have no idea," he admitted.

"Coach can look at it…once we catch up." There was no point in letting that delusional bud of optimism die now. Even if we were even _less_ likely to _ever_ catch up given recent developments. "We should get moving." I felt him nod behind me, then sling an arm under my legs to pick me up. "Hey!" I protested, "It's not that bad…I can walk!" I needed to redeem myself somehow. Rochelle had had a worse run-in with a charger at Whispering Oaks and did she complain? No. Did she pass out? Of course not. Could she walk afterwards? Hell yes, she could. _And she's smaller than you too…suck it up._ Ellis hesitated.

"I don' know…"

"Don't know 'til we try, though," I pushed. There was another brief moment of hesitation before he consented, carefully letting my feet hit the ground. I gingerly moved forward, doing my best to keep a grimace off my face. "See?" I said firmly, "Perfectly fine." Ellis' lips drew into a tight line, but he didn't say anything. I was feeling pretty good about my "recovery" until we finally entered the mill building…and were faced with several flights of stairs. I narrowed my eyes and limped forward a little more violently than necessary. I planted my foot on the first step and shoved off stubbornly, only to almost fall flat on my face, letting out a long hiss as my ribs screamed at me.

"Perfectly fine…" Ellis, who had caught me before I'd slammed my teeth into concrete, muttered. I stood up carefully.

"I am! I just need to go slower…" He didn't bother responding. He just took one of my arms and slung it around his shoulders, wrapping another arm loosely around my torso for support.

"Call it a compromise," he said, leaving no room for argument, when I started to protest again. _Nice work. Completely competent. In the last half hour, you've managed to do a _spectacular _job of not making a pain in the ass of yourself. Take those witches for example. You almost ran right in the middle of both of them. Or the charger? Now you're just a _further _burden. Just watch a charger be waiting at the top of these stairs. It would knock you _both _down now. Congratulations._

I did my best to ignore myself and instead focus on putting one foot in front of the other. It was almost harder walking up the stairs using Ellis as a crutch. I felt like if I put one toe off balance, we'd both go tumbling off the stairs, which, once again, lacked railings.

Despite my pessimism, we made it to the top of the stairs without incident. The area in front of the ancient elevator was much the same as the trailer; blood and bodies strewn everywhere. To my relief, none of them remotely resembled our missing team. I glanced across the sugar cane field below and made out the sign for Ducatel Diesel just across it. A fleeting half smile crossed my face. _Almost there!_

"They must've gone through the field to the gas station," I said, pointing at the lit sign. He nodded and squinted out at the field.

"Hey! There's someone down there! _Ni-_"

"Shh!" I interrupted, awkwardly trying to cover his mouth. "We don't know that's them!" He nodded and we made our shuffling way toward the elevator's call button.

"Probably gonna call every goddamn zombie in the area…" I grumbled as I hit the oversized button. We both flinched at the fingernail-on-a-chalkboard sound of the elevator grinding against its shaft. I twisted carefully out of Ellis' grip and reached for my belt.

"I can stand for now," I mumbled, "Shit…no gun…" I slid my machete from my belt instead, not looking forward to using it with potentially broken ribs. I took a long, shuddering breath and backed against the elevator's gate. Of course, it wouldn't be easy to kill anything with a melee weapon with Ellis _insisting_ on standing _right in front of me_.

Thankfully, there weren't many zombies left over to fight. The few that did show up were quickly shot by Ellis. We stepped inside the creaky old elevator and pressed the button to go down. I poked Ellis lightly in the arm and rested my hand on my hip,

"How 'bout saving me a few?" He snorted.

"You're tellin' me you'd be fine swingin' that thing around?" I shrugged.

"Eh, maybe not…you could always just give me _your_ gun…"

"Ya mean the one ya shot _once_?"

"Yep." Ellis chuckled.

"Gonna have to pass on that one."

*/*/*/*/*

The elevator seemed to take an eternity to reach the cane field. Once we started walking through it (me unassisted this time), I got the uncomfortable feeling we were being stalked. _A lot like _Jurassic Park_, really. And no minor characters to sacrifice to satisfy both the velociraptors and the audience's bloodlust. Shame._

"I've never been in a sugarcane field before," Ellis quipped. "I mean, I've _seen_ 'em an' all, but no real reason to go into one. But now you go to a peach grove you find all sorts of cool shit…" I was nodding distantly in response to his story, but I was really concentrating on listening for threats. "This one time, I was in a—"

"_Shit!_" I stuck my arm out and stopped him from walking any further. He fell silent and I could just make out _more_ echoing crying of a witch.

"God_damn_….another one?" Ellis whispered. I nodded and tried to make out the direction the sound was coming from. _It almost sounds like it's getting _louder_…_

It was.

I barely stopped myself from jumping when I noticed the pale infected walking not five feet in front of us. My heart thundered in my chest as I willed her to walk on by and not notice us. Instead, she sat down where she was and started rocking slowly back and forth, continuing her haunting sobbing. I sank my teeth into my lip and slowly turned to Ellis.

"_What should we do?_" I mouthed. His eyes darted to the witch, then back to me. He nodded to the side.

"_Walk around her,_" he mouthed back. I nodded and picked up a foot to move, but as soon as I set it down, the witch gasped and started to growl. _Shitshitshitshitshitshit._ I carefully placed my foot back where it was and stood perfectly still. The witch returned to her sobbing. I exchanged another helpless glance with Ellis. He shrugged weakly. It was obvious we would need to stay put, _exactly_ put, until the bitch deigned to move again.

The whole experience was rather like being chained to the wall in the same room as a ticking time bomb. And the bomb had no timer _you_ could see; for all you know, the thing's a dud and won't _ever _go off. But you're not betting on it, because you can't get away. Oh, also it's sixty degrees and raining heavily. And you're afraid to so much as blink water out of your eyes because you think the bomb might be sensitive to _that_.

I closed my eyes and breathed slowly (and silently) to try and calm myself and remove myself from the situation. It didn't help much, but it felt good to expend the effort, anyway.

The rain plastered my hair to the back of my neck and my clothes to my skin as I stood there, as motionless as I could manage. And the bitch _still_ wouldn't move. She was sitting in four fucking inches of water, and she _still_ sat there.

Eventually, she did get up and leave, heading back to the deserted sugar mill. Shivering with fear, relief, and cold, Ellis and I finally started moving again. I almost tripped over my own feet when I tried to take my first step and Ellis grabbed my hand to steady me. He made as if to let go when I seemed okay again, but I squeezed his hand harder and wouldn't let him. He squeezed back.

"Hey, we're okay," he said. I nodded. I couldn't tell if I was crying or if it was just the rain. It didn't much matter, since no one could tell the difference. "We need to get goin'." I nodded and we started following a pipe through the field toward the gas station.

As soon as we made it through the field, I let go of Ellis' hand and drew my machete again. For some reason, it seemed more necessary in the open.

The signs on the building promised there was _actually_ gas here, but I wasn't buying it. Things never really worked out the way they should. Nonetheless, we hopefully nudged the glass doors open and made our way toward the back of the building. I could see the familiar barred red safe room door, but it was closed. We walked up to it and I knocked lightly, still trying to blink rainwater out of my eyes. The door opened with a shrill creak and before I could make much sense of what was happening, Coach was shoving us inside the safe room.

"Thank _God! _Where the hell have you two _been?_"


	21. Hero

_"And if it kills me tonight, I will be ready to die…"_

I knew as soon as Coach shut the door something was wrong. I quashed the uneasy feeling as I took inventory of the room. Coach was here, obviously. I looked in the corner and my heart dropped to my stomach. Nick and Rochelle were there, Rochelle's head pillowed on Nick's leg. Her midsection was wrapped in something that was once white and was now very, very bloody. I recognized the bandage as Nick's jacket; part of that three thousand dollar suit he didn't want to get so much as swamp water on. I had to look closely to see she was still breathing. My mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no words came out. _What the hell happened?_

"Shit…Ro…" Ellis mumbled. Nick's head shot up and he glared viciously at Ellis.

"Couldn't wait five fucking minutes, could you?"

"Nick…" Coach cautioned. Nick waved him off.

"Five fucking minutes and we would've _all_ gone back. But _no_. It made _much _more sense to dive out the goddamn window, didn't it?" Ellis was completely silent.

"Meanwhile," Nick continued, "The three of _us_ are stuck in that damn trailer, trying to fend off all the zombies in the goddamn universe while Rochelle's _bleeding to death_ in the corner!" Rochelle stirred a little with a frown in his lap, but remained…what? Unconscious? Asleep? Nick's eyes darted down to her, then resumed his tirade more quietly,

"_We had to carry her all the way here…which was probably _fantastic_ for the cuts on her stomach, by the way!_" Ellis finally reacted, his face settling into hard lines,

"Five minutes coulda made all the difference in the world!"

"Yeah, no shit! The difference between being able to patch Ro up before we bounced her all over _hell_ and having her just about bleed out!"

"She got jumped by a _hunter!_ She coulda been dead in thirty seconds!"

"Yeah? Guess what? Ro got jumped by a witch, _Ellis_—"

"_Enough!_" I interjected quickly, just loud enough to be heard over the escalating fight. My ribs twinged at the violent expulsion of air from my lungs, but I ignored it with a wince. "This is _not_ a goddamn contest! What the hell does it matter now? What's done is _done_. Let's get a plan in place, and get the hell _out_ of here!" Nick's answering glare told me he'd hold back _for now_, but later there would be hell to pay.

"She's right," Coach said, finally deciding to interfere. He craned his glance out the bars of the safe room door, focusing on the intrusive sound of the violent storm outside. He sighed, "Best bet's prob'ly to just try an' wait the storm out. Storms come up quick…maybe they'll leave quick." Nick's eyes flashed,

"And what about—"

"Ain't nothin' more we can do to help Ro now, Nick," Coach said quietly. "'Bout all we can do is let her rest up best she can." Nick's lips pressed into a tight line and he leaned his head back against the wall with his eyes tightly shut. Coach turned to me, "Now let me see those ribs, young'un. You ain't foolin' nobody." I sheepishly smiled and rolled up my top to survey the damage. Coach huffed once,

"Shit, girl, what did you do?" I shrugged.

"Charger," I answered shortly. Coach shook his head.

"_You_ are havin' _all_ sorts of luck today…" I smiled faintly and worked up the courage to look down.

My stomach turned a little to see a faint outline of my ribs showing up in yellowish brown, much more visible on the left side than the right. Not to be outdone, my right side was slowly turning purple from some other bruise. I submitted as quietly as I could as Coach's fingers poked and prodded my midsection experimentally. When he finally finished, I rolled my shirt back down.

"What's the damage?" I asked lightly. Coach let out a big breath through his nose,

"At least bruised…impossible to tell if it's broken without lookin' at an x-ray or somethin'." He paused. "Jus'…try to stay off your stomach. Don' really wanna wrap it up unless it's broken for sure…" I nodded and walked to the corner of the room opposite from Nick. I was pretty sure he didn't want to be bothered. Ellis followed close behind.

I bent my knees and went to sit, but sucked in a sharp breath at the twinging in my torso. I doubled over and clutched at my stomach. _Fuck. How long is _this_ gonna take to heal?_ Ellis tugged on my hands and helped me back to my feet.

"Here…" he said, carefully lifting me into his arms and depositing me gently on the floor. As soon as I was settled, he lay down next to me and rested my head on his arm. I was being manipulated much like a delicate doll or an invalid or something, but I couldn't bring up any sort of annoyance. In the face of all we had been through today, most of my usual fire evaporated. I closed my eyes and flinched at the sound of a particularly loud thunderclap.

"Ellis?" I whispered.

"Hmm?" I hesitated a second before continuing.

"Tell me…tell me today's gonna turn out okay." He squeezed my hand lightly.

"It's all gonna be okay," he said, trying his best to sound as if he meant it. I squeezed back and tried to ignore the false note in his voice.

"Promise?"

"Promise." He raised his other hand in front of him and extended his pinkie. I laughed, a sound that was almost hysterical, then hooked my little finger with his.

* * *

I was a definite insomniac most of the time, but usually thunderstorms put me to sleep almost immediately. Whether it was the context of the storm, my injuries, or stress in general, I could _not_ fall all the way asleep to save my life. I lay awake, trying to ignore how painful breathing had become, even as I heard the deep breathing and light snores coming from everyone else.

_Yup. Sleepless and injured. _Just _the way I want to approach the final stretch._

Theoretically, we were supposed to make the run from the gas station back to the boat in Ducatel all in one trip. In my opinion, our chances were worse than ever. Sure, the guys were all in decent shape. They were a little banged up, inevitably, but they could still run and shoot with no problems. Me and Rochelle, on the other hand, were another story entirely. From what I understood, Rochelle was barely able to stay conscious due to blood loss and I quite possibly had broken ribs. Throw in the fact that we'd probably have to be half dragged the whole two miles to the boat and you didn't exactly have a pretty picture.

_Can't I have _one _thing go right?_

Less than a month ago, I'd been on track to graduate in May. I had a job lined up. I had a family that loved me. I was secure, safe, and happy.

My mind drifted to a few days ago and my heart sank to my stomach. Even then, after my world had been turned upside down, I was finally getting to be happy again. I had found people I could trust. I was acting more like myself. I was starting to…have feelings…I'd never experienced before. But even that happiness, dulled as it was by the absence of those closest to me, had to be ripped away.

The few dreams I had in the few minutes of sleep I managed to steal were almost exclusively memories. There were childhood memories with my sisters, more recent ones of me building myself up in college, and more than a few just from the past couple of weeks. It should have been comforting. I should have just been happy I wasn't having my expected nightmares.

Instead, it felt uncomfortably like the world was letting my life flash before my eyes.

* * *

Hours later, the storm was still going strong. Rain continued to pelt the roof of the gas station violently and thunder continued to roar and echo periodically. I groaned quietly. _Really? The storm is still going _on top of_ everything else? _Coach sighed forcefully,

"Well, it don't look like the storm's goin' nowhere. Might as well get goin'." I tensed and rose to my elbows with a lot of effort. _Motherfu-!_

"_Ugh_…anyone happen to have a pistol?" I asked. I was _not _in the mood to try the machete. Nick rubbed his fingers over his eyes.

"What the hell happened to your other one?" he grumbled.

"I…dropped it."

"What, again?" I lightly rapped the knuckles of one hand on my ribs.

"_Ahem_, charger, remember?" I said as patiently as I could manage.

"Whatever. Still don't have a pistol." I rolled my eyes and tried to get up the rest of the way. _God_damn _it anyway! Gonna be kinda difficult to _walk_ when I can't even fucking _get up_!_ Ellis gripped me under my arms and hoisted me to my feet. I held back a reaction as best I could, but wasn't entirely successful.

"_Fuuuuuuck…_sorry…thanks, Ellis…" I just got a grim smile in return. None of this was exactly doing wonders for my personal prognosis.

"Can ya walk?" he asked. I took a deep breath.

"'Course I can..." I mumbled. I took another deep, calming breath and shuffled one foot tentatively in front of the other. _Could be worse…_Sure, it hurt, but it wasn't anywhere on the same degree as getting off the goddamn floor. I took another few faster steps, then finished it off with a half-assed model turn. Coach rolled his eyes at me,

"Alright, no need to be a jackass." He glanced over to the other corner of the safe room. "Ro…?" Rochelle, awake now but still pitifully pale and weak, sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, I know…" she said dismissively. She narrowed her eyes and braced her palms against the floor. Her muscles tensed and she jumped violently to her feet, smiling for a moment before swaying. Nick caught her before she could fall all the way to the floor. "_Wow_...head rush!" she said, blinking rapidly and fooling no one.

"Damn…looks like we're gonna have to carry her," Coach said. Rochelle snorted,

"Oh, come on, it's not _that _bad…"

"It _is_ actually," Nick interjected, "Besides, you get any more dirt on that jacket, there _will _be hell to pay." Rochelle held in a laugh as she glanced down at the heavily bloodstained garment. I smiled briefly before returning my attention to my own problems. _You're just gonna have to suck it up for today. There's no other weapon to use, and things are going to be hard enough as it is._ I stepped a little away from the group and slowly mimed taking a swing with my machete. My muscles protested every move vehemently, but it was bearable. _Just stay out of the way for the most part. You'll do what you have to._ Not entirely satisfied with my performance, I walked over to where everyone else was strapping huge tanks of gas onto their backs.

"Shit…" Coach mumbled, "We're only gonna be able to take three of 'em."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. Before anyone could respond, I picked up one of the cans. "It has straps. Works just like a backpack, right?" I slid my arms through the straps and heaved the tank onto my back.

"Ya sure you can handle it?" Coach asked. I adjusted the straps so the tank sat higher on my back.

"Yup. Not even that heavy," I lied. Coach still didn't look convinced. Nick rolled his eyes,

"Oh, just let her already. I am _not_ making this trip twice."

"Hear, hear," I said.

A few minutes later, we were ready to leave. In the end, we managed to agree on the distribution of the load: all of us except Rochelle would carry a gas can, and Coach would carry Rochelle. Rochelle, wedged in between the gas can and Coach's back, did _not _look happy with the arrangement.

"If you'd give me a couple minutes, I could _walk_," she complained as we left the room.

"Don' really have a couple minutes," Coach responded conclusively. Nick walked beside Coach and me and Ellis took up the rear.

"Stay close, okay?" he said as soon as we crossed the threshold of the safe room. They were the first words he'd spoken in ten minutes. That alone made me uneasy. I nodded.

It was immediately apparent when we re-entered the cane field that we should have left earlier. What had been an ankle deep mud puddle before had progressed into practically a lake that went up to our knees.

"Goddamn," Coach swore, "Gettin' back to the boat ain't gonna be as easy as gettin' here."

"You call that easy?" Nick asked. We slogged on through the field, looking up every now and then to refer to the Ducatel Sugar sign above us. Not only was it wet, it was _cold_. All of us were immediately soaked to the bone, and the chill was only serving to emphasize my sore muscles. We had some relief when we climbed into the elevator to the sugar mill.

"This shit is worse than the swamp," Coach grumbled. I shrugged,

"Smells better, though."

"And no mud men," Rochelle added. _Ugh. Almost forgot about those buggers._

"Better not be any goddamn instant mud people, just add water," Coach finished. The elevator stopped and the others dispatched the few commons still milling around. It _looked_ like most of the infected had been eliminated on our first run through. I didn't entirely buy into that theory, but it was a nice thought regardless.

By the time we got to the next safe house, we were all thoroughly exhausted. My right leg felt stiff as hell. I didn't dare do much more than lean on the table housing a pile of ammo; I wasn't sure if I could find the will to get up if I sat down all the way.

"Can I get _down_ now?" Rochelle asked peevishly, "I feel like a damn three-year-old." Coach relented and helped her down. She swayed a little on her feet, but managed to stay upright with a grim smile.

"Alright," Coach began, "The boat ain't far. One last push and we're _outta _here." The continued attempt to boost our morale was nice, I guess, but we were all too damn tired to appreciate it. Coach allotted us a short break before the next push and I decided to take advantage of the time. I followed Ellis back down the stairs, splashing through the puddles of water lying stagnant on the floor.

"You're awfully quiet," I said, getting straight to the point. He raised his head a little and shrugged. I put a hand on my hip, "Not exactly helping yourself." That actually managed to get a small grin out of him. "C'mon. What's up?" He shrugged again.

"I don' know…déjà vu, I guess…" he said vaguely.

"About what?"

"Jus'…worried about…everyone." That was it. It was obvious Ellis wasn't being Ellis. It was my turn to suck it up and play the optimist. I forced a small smile on my face.

"Hey, we already made it halfway! And we've seen…what? Five zombies? Six? We could take care of those in our _sleep_. I'm pretty sure the sons o' bitches like being out in the storm about as much as we do." He shrugged.

"It won't take a whole helluva lot to take us down now." I snorted.

"Bullshit. We're doing _fine_. Besides, now we've got Rochelle walking—"

"She _shouldn't _be—"

"Hey, if she says she can walk, she can." Personally, I _did_ think it was a little ridiculous that the guys felt Rochelle needed to be carried all the way back to the boat. Sure, she'd lost a lot of blood, but did they not think she could recover? _Yeah, just think what they're thinking about _you_._ I smirked. "And for that matter, so can I."

"Your _ribs _are br—"

"Bruised."

"Coach said—"

"Could be either one." I smiled genuinely, "And it's easier to play 'Ellis' when they're only bruised." He smiled back.

"And now you're stealin' my job?" _There's the Ellis we know and…well…_

"Hey, somebody's gotta do it."

* * *

We slogged through the town determinedly, not even stopping long enough to catch our breath at the next safe house. We stopped our manic pace once we reached the Burger Tank. I exhaled in relief. All the walking was playing _hell_ with my ribs.

"We still need something to signal Virgil…" Rochelle said, sinking into a chair. Coach pursed his lips and thought for a moment.

"If we fire up the Burger Tank sign, Virgil might see it," he said. No one really had any better ideas, so we headed up a ladder from the kitchen to the roof. I had to concentrate not to slip on the wet rungs. We got to the top, and Nick opened the control box below the sign. He scoffed,

"Yeah…_this_ looks easy." _It never is a simple on/off switch, is it?_ The wires inside the panel were a tangled mess. Ellis frowned and stepped forward.

"Here, move over…" he said, filtering through the disorderly mess with his hands.

"Oh, come _on_," Nick interjected, "How the _hell_ would you know anything about—"

"You spend enough time with Keith, ya learn a thing 'r two 'bout electronics," Ellis said, shrugging. "Outta self preservation, if nothin' else." I grinned and Coach motioned Nick back.

"No harm in tryin', Nick," he said. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the sign fired up, the neon lettering cutting through the storm easily. Nick shrugged and mumbled something about blind squirrels. I kicked him in the shin when he wasn't looking.

Of course, we hadn't thought about what _else_ might be attracted to giant lights.

Peeking over the edge of the roof, I could see the rest of the town had come to pay us a visit. I swore and stepped back to less precarious ground. It was too late to climb back down the ladder.

For the most part, I felt pretty useless. The guys managed to mow down most of our attackers before they got close enough for me to use my machete. The few times I _did_ manage to get a swing in, it was much less powerful than normal and made my aching body scream at me. I squinted through the sheets of rain, trying to catch any glimpse of the boat, _willing _Virgil to show up. _C'mon…c'mon…_

I finally heard the booming horn of the boat and laughed in relief. Virgil hadn't given up on us after all!

"Let's get the hell out of here!" I shouted over the storm. We slid down the ladder into the restaurant hurriedly. Just over the torrent of rain, I could hear a horde regrouping itself. I could barely make out their dark shapes. It was down to a footrace now. I strained against the combined handicaps of the heavy gas can on my back and the knee deep water at my feet.

As we ran out the back of the restaurant, the light on the boat shone like a holy beacon. I found myself thinking of the future for the first time in a while, a genuine smile gracing my face. _We're going to make it! Goodbye zombies, hello rescue! No more tanks, no more witches, and honest to God _food_!_

My thoughts were abruptly cut short by the telltale bellow of a charger. My blood froze. This particular charger sounded much larger than the ones we'd seen before. My fears were confirmed when it came crashing out of the dark on our left. The thing was easily the size of a tank…and it was headed straight for me. My eyes widened and I started to move out of the way…too slowly.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. Insanely, I managed a glimpse at Ellis while I moved. I thought fleetingly it must have been instinct. I knew I wouldn't survive a hit from something like _that_…especially injured as I already was. I was going to die. _I'm going to die._

It happened in an instant. One moment I saw the ugly hulk careening crazily toward me. The next, I felt the impact of the hit and was shoved to the side. _Wait…I should've been picked up. I went the wrong direction._ I hissed as my side hit the water and whipped my head to the spot I had occupied seconds ago.

The space Ellis was currently occupying.

He was there for the briefest of seconds, eyes locked on mine, arms still outstretched, before he was carried off with a sickening crack.

My brain stopped functioning. I stood, ignoring the hot pain in my ribcage. I raised my machete and turned to go back.

But, once again, I couldn't move where I wanted to. My right arm was held in an iron grip. I whipped my head around. Nick.

"Just get on the-" I broke him off with an instinctive punch to the nose. I felt something crunch under my fist, but more importantly, I felt the relief of pressure on my arm. Without delay, I darted forward, my mind occupied with nothing but a stream of icy panic._ Nononononononononononono…_ Adrenaline rushed through my system, drowning sound in its frantic pumping. The flooded ground and cumbersome gas can were no longer obstacles.

I quickly reached the writhing horde, the charger standing in the middle. I felt every one of the charger's strikes against the ground reverberate through my body, the slow tempo a contrast to the panicked pounding of my heart. My arm arced back and powerfully sliced through the concentrated group of commons ahead of me. I finally broke through the line, reaching the charger. I drew my blade swiftly across the brute's back, causing it to roar in agony and turn on me. When it reached for me, I jumped to one side and drove the tip of my blade into its throat, pulling it out before it finally fell. I was alone. The horde and the charger had been decimated. Where the hell was Ellis? I looked around stupidly for a beat before realizing the only possibility. _The water!_

I clawed through the murky water until my hand caught fabric. I gripped the fabric and pulled Ellis out of the water. Realizing I would need both hands to get him back to the boat, assuming it was still there, I shoved my weapon into my belt and drew one of his arms around my shoulders. Adjusting his weight as best I could, I began dragging him toward the boat.

As I trudged on, I heard the echo of another horde behind us. _Fuck fuck fuck. Must go faster! _I couldn't attack them. _Move it!_ I couldn't move fast enough. _They're coming!_ In that moment, I realized how royally fucked we were. I kept moving, but an unavoidable grimace crossed my face, knowing that, in the near future, I would likely be eaten alive by zombies. I found my body tensing, bracing itself for the feeling of teeth sinking into my body.

I heard a series of rifle blasts and dared to look up.

Nick.

He was standing there, rifle in hand, calmly taking out the horde nipping at my heels in spite of the copious amount of blood flowing freely from his nose. As soon as I reached him, he strapped the gun over his shoulder and shifted Ellis' free arm around his shoulder.

"Let's _move_, Princess!" he barked, his voice slightly garbled. We made it to the boat just before my legs gave out. I felt the deck shift sharply under my feet and the floor rose to meet me.

* * *

_A/N: Well, _that_ was certainly a loaded chapter. And more evil cliffies! Please review! I love feedback and tend to get guilted into updating sooner when I get it (not so subtle hint hint)!_


	22. Your Guardian Angel

_"Use me as you will, pull my strings just for a thrill, and I know I'll be okay, though my skies are turning gray…"_

I couldn't concentrate on individual sounds. Everything was a blur. I could hear snippets of conversation, but couldn't discern any real meaning. My brain didn't want me to think about it.

_"Shit…get _up_…_Coach!_"_

I was vaguely aware of being uncomfortable…not in pain, just…uncomfortable. I wanted to shift a little, relieve some pressure, but my body was so damn _heavy_…

_"What the hell happened?"_

_ "No time to explain…them inside…"_

Something happened? My memory felt blurry at the edges. All I could remember was rain. That was it…the discomfort. I was wet. And cold.

_ "Oh…hang on sweetie…"_

_ "Don't! Wait here!"_

Who? Where? _Where am I? _There was a series of thunks on the surface I was lying on. It made me aware of the pounding of rain on my back. Someone was pushing me…_NO!_

_"Shit…said…supposed to stay off…stomach…"_

A stabbing pain ran through my midsection, somehow managing to unfreeze my muscles. I groaned and shifted, my eyelids opening a crack. I caught a brief glance of a face before I closed them against the rain.

"Hey, you okay?"

_What a stupid question._

"Here, Nick is back…"

I couldn't really bring myself to care. Someone was picking me up. It reminded me of a while back…a roller coaster…this felt wrong. I stiffened.

_Ellis._

My eyes flashed all the way open, thankfully once we were inside and out of the rain.

"Oh, good. You're awake," Rochelle said from somewhere behind my head. My mouth couldn't seem to form words yet. I rolled myself to my right violently and smacked against the floor with a dull thump. My breath flew from me in an instant and my ribs were on fire.

"_Shit_, princess…why the _hell_ would you…_Jesus!_" Nick exploded. Propping myself on my palms, I grit my teeth violently and shoved myself off the floor, managing to get to my knees. I rested my palms on my thighs and breathed harshly through a straggly curtain of wet hair.

"Sweetie, you really just need to lie down…" Rochelle said, trying to guide me to my feet.

"No…" I managed to croak. I shrugged her off and gripped the sheets of the bed in front of me. I took a deep breath and hoisted myself to my feet. I gripped the back of the bed with one hand and clutched my ribs with the other. My eyes scanned the room. _Ellis?_

"_Damn it!_" Coach swore from somewhere to my right, "I need some help!" I whipped my head in the direction of Coach's voice and my blood froze. Ellis was lying on the opposite bunk, eerily still. All sensation of pain faded to the back of my mind and I strode to the bed single-mindedly. Adrenaline was a strong little chemical.

"_What's wrong with him?_" I asked, insistently pushing my way in next to the bed. The extent of the damage from my new vantage point was painfully obvious. I could tell the back of his shirt was steadily soaking with blood, from what, I couldn't imagine. Worse than that though was the complete stillness. He wasn't breathing. "Coach…" But he wasn't paying attention.

"Nick, Ro! Grab first aid kits! And a pair of scissors if you can find it!" Shaking, I carefully laid my hand on Ellis' still chest. I felt some measure of relief when I felt a pulse. I swallowed my panic and reached down to tilt his head back. I took a deep breath, leaned down, and pressed my mouth against his.

As I forced the breath into his lungs, I was struck by the insane thought that this was our first kiss.

I shoved all thought, insane or otherwise, aside and focused on the only help I could give. Every second felt like an eternity. My heart pounded violently from stress and I was getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. If I was _thinking_, I would have realized that it was logical not to be the only one keeping him breathing. But I felt that I had to do _something_. If I wasn't helping in some tangible way, I _would_ go insane.

The next time I gave him air, his entire body spasmed and I jumped up. He violently coughed up an impossible amount of water. Coach rolled him to his side until it stopped and he was left breathing raggedly with several intermittent coughs. Coach rolled him back onto his back and grabbed a pair of scissors from a waiting Rochelle. He used them to cut away Ellis' damp shirt. As soon as the sodden fabric was peeled away, my stomach turned.

His stomach was already turning _purple_. I could see the outline of the charger's fingers shockingly clearly. Several shallow cuts crisscrossed his back, still bleeding considerably. Ellis, though breathing now, didn't seem entirely conscious. All he was capable of doing was groaning almost continuously, rising almost to a scream every time a wound was touched. I wasn't sure he even knew where he was.

I gingerly climbed onto the bed behind him and cradled his head in my lap. The gesture would have seemed far too intimate in any other situation, but things like that hardly mattered in a situation like this. I did what I could, stroking his sweat dampened hair or holding his hand while the others patched him up.

By the time they were done, nearly his entire torso was covered in bandages. I took some strange comfort in the fact that he'd passed out during the procedure. At least he wouldn't be able to feel the injuries anymore…although I still couldn't help checking his pulse and breathing every thirty seconds he wasn't conscious. When the last bandages were finally put into place, someone laid a hand on my shoulder and I jumped. Rochelle smiled softly and handed me a bottle of water, a piece of bread, and a few horse-sized pain pills.

"Thanks," I croaked. She watched as I used one hand to eat, open the bottle and take the pills, refusing to take the other off of Ellis' bandaged shoulder. She sighed.

"Sweetie, you really need to go to sleep," she insisted. I shook my head and got a little dizzy.

"I can't sleep yet," I said quietly.

"He'll be fine. You've done all you can for tonight. And you need to take care of yourself, too." I _knew_ everything she said was true…but I couldn't bring myself to believe it. It had been close…so _fucking_ close. He'd practically drowned as it was… _Oh, come on. What's he gonna do now…spontaneously combust?_ My head swayed like a balloon straining against its string. _What is _wrong _with me?_ My head circled back and leaned against the wall. I tried to glare at Rochelle but only managed to look confused.

"What the hell was _in_ those pills…" I trailed off as my eyes sank shut.

* * *

When I woke up, I could feel every pore in my body throbbing painfully in unison. I held back a groan as I stretched, keeping my eyes closed. I cracked my eyes open and was disoriented and confused. _When did I go to bed? Why did I go to sleep up _here_? There's a perfectly good cupboard downstairs…and why don't I smell? I _definitely_ didn't take a shower…_I shifted my legs under the blankets and could tell they were covered in sweats rather than the jeans I had been wearing. If I paid close enough attention, I could discern a very slight strawberry smell. I reddened at the implication. _Great. So someone dressed me and gave me a bath. While I was asleep. No, it's okay. I _wanted_ everyone to see me naked…thanks for asking, guys._

I couldn't bring myself to get too angry though. Given how wet my clothes were, I probably would have gotten hypothermia or pneumonia or something if I hadn't changed them. My eyes slid closed again. It seemed like too much effort to keep them even slightly open.

My mind was wholly occupied with the events of…last night? This morning? Who knew? The part of me that wasn't consumed with whether Ellis was actually going to be okay or not simply wondered _why_.

Why did he push me out of the way?

Why did I _follow_ him?

This wasn't the normal response of a teammate being attacked. The expected response was trying to shoot whatever zombie was coming before it hurt someone. It _wasn't_ jumping in front of the attack. Getting carried off yourself. Risking your life.

Taking a bullet.

And what was _I _doing? I had stopped thinking immediately. I'd punched Nick in the _nose_ to get to him. I didn't care who or what I hurt. He had been…

…_still is_…

…the only thing that mattered.

It scared the _hell_ out of me.

It was _insane_. We'd known each other maybe two weeks. Maybe. We were risking our lives for each other after _two weeks_. There was only one explanation…but I couldn't bring myself to even _think_ the words. _Not a chance. Just because you _know_ isn't an excuse to act on it. Don't you know anything?_

"She up yet?" I managed not to jump at the sound of Nick's voice. There was a little creaking from the bunk above me.

"Not yet," Rochelle answered. There was a long silence and I almost felt like falling asleep again.

"Didn't know Princess had it in her…" Nick said finally.

"Hmm…" Rochelle agreed indistinctly.

"She broke my _nose_." I scoffed automatically.

"Well, I didn't _mean _to." The childish words spouted out of my mouth before I could stop them. _Crap!_ Nick's head popped down from the side of the bed, his nose covered in a thick bandage. I started to laugh, but switched to a wince when that jostled my ribs. Nick's eyes narrowed,

"What's so damned funny?"

It came out _wuth tho damned fuddy_. I bit back another laugh and grinned.

"You sound funny…" I said stupidly. Nick's head retreated.

"_Christ_, Ro, what did you _give_ her?" I could practically feel Rochelle shrug.

"Percocet."

" Whatever it is, cut the dose." He climbed down formally this time and I noticed suddenly that the beds had been moved. The one I was occupying was shoved up against its counterpart. My head flopped to the left and I noticed with a lurching stomach that I was literally a foot away from Ellis.

If I didn't know better, I would have thought he was perfectly fine. His face was the only part of him visible from my vantage point…it was probably the only part of him that _wasn't_ injured in some way. Sure, there were a few scratches here and there, a deeper one across his nose, but those were all old. The same went for the bruise under his left eye. With all the substantial injuries covered up and him peacefully sleeping, there wasn't much evidence of the events in Ducatel. Against my better judgment, I felt some of the tension in my stomach release.

"So…what was with the left hook?" I was distracted from my observations by Nick. I reluctantly turned my head to the other side and propped myself up on my elbows.

"Um…six years of karate?" Nick snorted and waited for my fatigued and probably drug addled brain to understand the question. "Oh…" I shrugged. "You were in my way." Rochelle laughed out loud briefly, but Nick kept his expression carefully neutral.

"What did you think _I_ was trying to do?" I put up a weak poker face. I knew the answer…at least the one I'd thought at the time. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Nick shook his head slowly. "You thought I was going to leave him behind, didn't you?" I didn't answer. He sighed angrily. "How could you _possibly_ think I'd do something like that?" My voice finally started working again.

"I wasn't doing a whole lot of _thinking_ at the time," I conceded. I frowned. "What _were_ you trying to do anyway?" Nick snorted.

"You serious?" I didn't blink. He laughed shortly. "I was trying to prevent a stupid kid with broken ribs from taking on a _charger_ and a _horde_ by herself!" He paused. "Didn't want to drag two of your sorry asses back…" I smiled. Even with something like this, something serious, he had to try and dilute it with sarcasm as much as possible.

"Hey, I think the stupid kid did _okay_ taking them on…" I said, mirroring his attitude.

"Yeah…that was only why I had to shoot half the horde off your ass before you could get to the boat."

"What, no bonus points for doing all that with broken ribs?"

"Sure. They'll get cancelled out by a penalty for stupidity." We were both smirking by then, and I could tell everything had pretty much blown over. I raised my hands in mock defense and flopped back against the mattress.

"Oh, fine…" I rose back to my elbows and stuck out a hand, "Truce?" He rolled his eyes, shook his head, then finally shook my hand once.

"Truce." By then, Rochelle had finally climbed down from her perch and was smirking at us both.

"You two are morons," she declared unnecessarily. I waited a moment before speaking again.

"How is he?" I asked. Rochelle half smiled,

"Pretty banged up, but he's okay. Woke up before you did, actually." She laughed at the expression on my face.

"How long have I been _out?_" I asked incredulously. Rochelle shrugged.

"Six hours? Eight? Not sure exactly. Not surprising though. Long day—"

"And horse pills," I interrupted.

"True. But hey, I _guarantee_ your ribs feel better than they would've."

"Probably." I glanced back over at Ellis, still sleeping. Nick snorted,

"Don't bother, Princess. He was up for about five minutes before Ro drugged him too." That earned him a mild elbow from Rochelle. He just shrugged and walked off to a different part of the boat. Rochelle glanced after him, shook her head with a smile, then turned back to me.

"Seriously, he's fine," she said. I nodded, but I still really wished he'd wake up so I'd have some _concrete_ evidence. She brushed a strand of hair out of my face in a motherly gesture. "How are _you?_" I was tempted to answer "sore." Instead, I opted for honesty.

"Confused? Stupid?" I sighed. "I don't know…" Rochelle moved to sit and I skooched over as far as I could.

"So…what exactly happened?" she asked. I looked at her incredulously.

"He didn't _tell_ you?" She shrugged.

"Didn't really have much of a chance to," she admitted.

"You are _really_ loose with your drugs, aren't you?" She ignored me.

"Anyway…all I heard was he got attacked by a charger and you basically went apeshit." I sat up slowly.

"Um…that's most…_ugh_…the charger was going for _me_, okay?" Rochelle did a double take. Either it was legitimate, or she was a _fantastic_ actress.

"What?" I groaned.

" It was going after _me_. He shoved me out of the way…it got him instead."

"And then you went after him." It was a pretty rhetorical question. I didn't answer. She put her hand on my shoulder. "That says a lot, doesn't it?" I sighed.

"I know…" She pursed her lips.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I _don't_ know." Rochelle half-smiled.

"Well, whatever the case is, you have time to think about it." She paused. "Just be honest with yourself, sweetie." Rochelle walked off the same direction as Nick and left me alone.

Ellis snored and groaned in his sleep. _Well, not entirely._

I wrinkled my nose and plopped back down to my pillow with a wince. I'd never had to deal with anything like this before. Nothing had ever gotten this…_involved_. This wasn't just some other guy…this was some other guy I'd risked my life for…and who'd done the same for me.

I couldn't exactly use the excuse that I was protecting myself anymore. Whether I acknowledged it or not, I was in too far to really be able to cope with losing him now. And even if I _was_ willing to finally acknowledge it…what was I supposed to do? Ambush him in front of everyone as soon as he woke up?

_Hey I just met you, and this is craaaaazy…_

Ugh. Exactly.

_It really doesn't matter _what_ you say, you know. You just need to get it over with. Just say whatever comes to mind._

I knew I was right, but that didn't stop the butterflies in my stomach from tap dancing crazily. My eyes slid closed again, childishly shutting out the world.I tried to shut off my brain, but failed miserably. Without thinking, I scooted closer to Ellis, trying to get as close to him as I could without touching him; if _my_ injuries were this painful, I _did not_ want to jostle his.

I felt my shoulder bump his and stiffened. I opened my eyes and craned my head to the side, but he was still, thankfully, asleep. I allowed myself a half-smile. _Probably still drugged to the gills._ Re-realizing that he slept like the…like a rock…I was less worried. I carefully leaned my head on his shoulder, angling my body out so I wouldn't touch anything else.

When my eyes closed this time, I felt relaxed again. I fell asleep in moments.

* * *

_It happened in an instant. One moment I saw the ugly hulk careening crazily toward me. The next, I felt the impact of the hit and was shoved to the side. I hissed as my side hit the water and whipped my head to the spot I had occupied seconds ago._

_The space Ellis was currently occupying._

_He was there for the briefest of seconds, eyes locked on mine, arms still outstretched, before he was carried off with a sickening crack._

_I had an overwhelming sense of déjà vu in the following moments: Nick grabbing me, me punching him to get away. Until I managed to pull myself off of the deck of the boat, everything seemed familiar. _

_The feeling stopped as soon as I saw Ellis lying on the bed. The complete lack of motion was familiar, but the spreading stain of red on the sheets beneath him was not. _

_My heart lurched as I came closer. When his shirt was cut off, there were clear dents in his chest and back…from _what _I didn't know. _

_No one else seemed to be moving either. They just stood silently around, shaking their heads. I wanted to scream, but couldn't. _It was all a dream then…my subconscious trying to protect me from the truth. _My head spun and I fell to the ground. _

_I was moving through a million scenes at once, blazing past me at the speed of sound._

_People. No…not people. _Bodies.

_My family, friends, Nick, Rochelle, Coach, Ellis…_

_I was in each place just long enough to perceive the loss before moving on. My imagination ran wild. Among the dead were a variety of infected, their gruesome mutations marring their once-familiar faces, and a few that remained human. Those were worse; _their _eyes still stared, in a way the animal-like eyes of the dead zombies could not._

_The toll climbed higher. Some of the faces around me I barely recognized. Some I couldn't remember at all. Instead of disappearing, the bodies piled around me, blank eyes staring accusingly. I was alone in the middle of a mountain of dead. My lips trembled with a scream that couldn't come to the surface. _

_Through everything, a distant voice assured me everything was alright…everything would be alright…everything's fine…_

_I tried to instill the mantra in my head, but it seemed laughable to even _try_. I shook my head violently. No. No. Nono._ _Nononononononono…_

My eyes were shut. I didn't remember closing them.

"Sweetie, don't wake her up…" _Wake up? _It was pretty obvious she was being ignored.

"It's okay…" _Wait a minute…_ "It's okay, darlin'…nothin's gonna hurt you…" _Ellis?_ I opened my eyes and found myself face to face with a tired looking but _alive_ Ellis. I heard footsteps fading behind me and distantly realized Rochelle was giving us privacy. My mouth tried to form words and failed miserably. I just let out a pathetic whimper and practically threw myself at him.

"_Ugh…_careful there darlin'…_shit…_" My body and mind seemed to remember our injuries simultaneously and I painstakingly rolled back onto my back.

"_Fuck_…" I hissed. "_That_ was not a good idea." Ellis groaned again, but managed to grin at me.

"No kiddin'!" I smiled back and winced,

"Sorry about that…" He shrugged as best as he could,

"Ain't no big deal." I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, I've had worse…"

"_Worse_ than…" I shook my head and trailed off. "How're you feeling?" Ellis laughed shortly and winced.

"_Shit_…like I've been playin' chicken with a train, t' be honest." My eyes narrowed.

"_You_…you…" I sighed. I took a second for my voice to regain its strength and tried to glare at him. "You should _not _have done that." The rest of his smile disappeared.

"The hell'd you _expect _me to do?"

"I don't know!" I said hysterically, "_Anything _but _that!_" I gulped in a deep breath and tried my damndest to not start crying. "You…you scared the _hell_ out of me, Ellis…" His face softened and he pulled his arm, which I hadn't consciously felt until then, tighter around me. I turned my face into the crook of his neck and tried to stem the tears now freely streaming down my face. His other hand came around and held my head tighter against him. I thought I could hear his breath hitch too and awkwardly gripped the hand resting on my stomach.

"Shh…it's okay," Ellis murmured into my hair. I gulped in a shaky breath and shook my head insistently. Of _course_ it wasn't okay. It had never been _less_ okay.

"Y-you promised…" I stuttered in a low, nonsensical whisper. His arm tightened around me. There was no need to be more specific.

"I'm still here," he reassured. But it had been so _close_. Hell, he'd been practically _dead_ for a minute…I forced myself to pull away a little. I needed to look him in the eyes. I shook my head slowly and my words came without conscious thought,

"You don't understand…I can't _lose_ anyone else," I paused and inhaled shakily, "especially you." I realized the magnitude of what I'd said the moment the words left my mouth. For a short beat, neither of us spoke or even moved. Then, without warning, he closed the distance between us and his lips were on mine, moving gently. My mind was going completely crazy. I was frozen, unmoving as the two sides of myself battled for a decision.

After a few moments, he pulled back and smiled in a way that was part apologetic and part hopeful. _Good. Now you can put everything in order._ I opened and closed my mouth several times in a row, face burning, heart racing, and _willing_ words to come out. But they were useless and clumsy. Throwing caution to the wind, I mentally shrugged and closed the space again. As our lips met for the third time that night, I didn't give myself time to think. My mind kept reminding me how intuition had failed me? What about all the times cold logic had led me astray?

I'd already wasted so much time…and who knew how much of that we had left?

Too soon, we had to break apart to catch our breath. I smiled a bit sheepishly, embarrassed by my boldness. He grinned back brightly and we both slumped back against the mattress. My face felt like it was on fire and my torso wasn't _remotely_ happy with me, but I could somehow instinctively _tell_ this was right. My grin widened stupidly and I cleared my throat.

"Um…so I hope you've learned your lesson," I declared. Ellis' eyebrows rose,

"'bout what?"

"Jumping in front of chargers." Ellis chuckled.

"Ya know, if that's supposed to be a _punishment_, it ain't very convincin'."

* * *

_A/N: Two posts in a month?! *world explodes* And, look, I tried to write romance…ish…stuff! And sappy chapter song is sappy (but sooooooooooo addictive and appropriate…)! Please review if you liked it, I read every review, and I try to reply to every signed one!_


	23. Jump Rope

"_Be strong, don't you give up hope. It will get hard."_

We were _laughing_…how could it be possible to laugh so soon after a near-death experience? How could everything seem this _normal_…this natural? It should have been impossible.

But obviously it wasn't.

This was _exactly_ what I'd been missing in the past…this inexplicable connection to someone else. I had never needed, or really _wanted_, some superficial Disney style ending. Those three day relationships were childish and naïve. What kind of couple fell in love at first sight? Never really talked? Had a relationship full of impromptu song and dance numbers?

No, these things were meant to develop gradually over time, and _never_ when you expected. You would be friends and confidantes first, before jumping into anything further.

And _that_ was why I loved him, even if neither of us had actually said it out loud. There hadn't been any eloquent speeches, no elaborate declarations of love. It was really just simple friendship, evolving to the next step up through a couple of kisses and a joke.

I was ludicrously happy…no, _giddy_. It sounded corny and cliché as all hell, but my heart literally felt lighter and my stomach felt like it was full of butterflies. When we finally stopped laughing, we were still smiling. I slid a little closer to him, gingerly laying my head on his shoulder and hiding my face slightly in illogical embarrassment.

"Ya do that a lot, ya know," Ellis said. I craned my head back.

"Do what?"

"Turn away like that." He sounded worried. I blushed copiously.

"It's not like…I've just…I haven't had anything like…" I gestured helplessly, "_this_ before…" His eyes widened slightly.

"Aw, shit, was that your first—?" I hadn't thought it was possibly to blush any redder, but we _both_ seemed to manage it. I shook my head vigorously, making it swim.

"No! Well…not exactly anyway…" The beginnings of a grin spread across his face. I _really_ wasn't helping myself. "I mean, I've been _kissed _before," I forced myself to say the word, "Just never like…" I made another meaningless hand gesture, "_that_." Ellis laughed and made a show of leaning back casually.

"Well, I'll take _that _as a compliment." I smacked him lightly on the arm, but grinned despite myself.

"Oh, don't get cocky Ellis…I meant that it was the first time it, well, _meant_ something." That was true in a lot of respects. Any kisses I'd had before we're pretty perfunctory, over before I really realized what had happened. Beyond that, they'd all been…pretty meaningless when you got right down to it. The most they ever really said was "good night."

"I guess you're jus' gonna have to get used to it," Ellis said with a wide grin, leaning in again. Just as our lips touched again, I heard the door to the cabin bang open.

"Wow, it is _cold_ out there!" Rochelle exclaimed loudly. We both turned to see her standing in the doorway with a huge smirk on her face. I glared as menacingly as I could manage. "Oh, sorry. Was I interrupting something?" She sounded anything _but_ sorry. She sounded…smug. I leaned back and threw my pillow at her, actually managing to have it connect with her head. Rochelle shook her head. "I guess I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

I tried to wean myself off the pain medication slowly. I had enough problems without adding a drug dependency on top of everything. Regardless of the wisdom of my choice, my body _hated_ me for it. My ribs hurt of course, but the rest of my body made me feel like I was just a giant human bruise. Every time I shifted, I could feel _something_ complaining. Combined with the obnoxious pain, I couldn't turn my brain off. Without shock, absence of adrenaline, or pain pills to put me to sleep, my thoughts ran amok through my head.

We were back on track to be in New Orleans within the next week. New Orleans. CEDA. A safe zone. For all I knew, they were all a crock of bullshit. It had been weeks since the beginning of the infection; who knew whether CEDA had bothered to stay in New Orleans…if they'd ever been there in the first place.

What if we had to fight our way through to the supposed pickup area? We'd made it out of Ducatel by the skin of our _teeth_. I highly doubted we'd be able to survive anything _nearly_ on the same level any time soon.

And what if Nick was right? What if they weren't at all interested in rescuing surviving civilians, but saw us as a liability and _shot_ us?

But…for the first time, I _tried_ not to concentrate on it. Further, I tried to be…optimistic…about the whole situation. I took a deep breath, feeling the comforting weight of Ellis' arm shift above me as I did.

_It could be…worse._

It took a lot to admit that thought, but having done it, I realized how lucky I really was. I may have lost everything, but, illogically, I still had _something_. I was alive and uninfected. The first uninfected survivors I'd run into were actually decent human beings…and _they_ were all still alive.

I thought of how close our escape from Ducatel had been. There were several occasions were, logically, we _should_ have died. I could've gotten my throat ripped out by that hunter when I was left alone, but somehow, I managed to survive. Rochelle was able to pull through a full scale witch attack. We all managed to find our way back to the dock from the gas station in the dark, in the middle of what was practically a _hurricane_. I suppose I could just consider myself lucky. I chose to believe the universe…maybe…wasn't completely indifferent.

Or even if it was, it wasn't out to get me.

Hell, maybe it was just me finally coming to grips with the fact that life _was_ hard. It had its ups and downs, but you had to keep going…living for the ups. The downs I could take in stride. I could deal with them as they came. But I would be _damned_ if I was about to let them get in the way of little happinesses I could find along the way.

* * *

It was amazing how little things changed between me and Ellis. Things stayed primarily the same as they were before but more…comfortable. That was the word. What little tension there had been before essentially evaporated. We were both less hesitant about pretty much everything, now that we both knew where we stood.

The reprieve was nice, but now that I wasn't constantly on painkillers, it got pretty monotonous. That wasn't even taking into consideration the hovering air of smugness surrounding Rochelle whenever she passed us. I _really_ wished the two of us could trade Coach back for our cupboard, but I didn't feel too inclined to bother with the steep stairs constantly. _Ugh. And I thought cabin fever was bad in the swamp._

Eventually, me and Ellis took to taking walks around the deck. Coach said it would be good for us to "exercise" and it was a pretty good alternative to staring at the bottom of the bunk above me all day. We walked slowly, gingerly, and almost always hand in hand; we must've looked about eighty years old. We didn't want to bother with the climb up to the roof anymore, so when we got sick of walking (or were sore but too stubborn to admit it), we'd just sit down by the rail at the edge of the boat. For a change, we didn't really talk as much. For one, we were both _exhausted._ The ribs were one thing, but I felt worse than that; there was a certain bone-deep, all over tiredness that wouldn't seem to leave. Second, I think both of us were trying to avoid talking about the future. It was easier to just sit there in comfortable silence.

* * *

About a week later, we finally made it to New Orleans. The five of us stood at the railing, staring at the slowly approaching skyline. It was surreal to see skyscrapers after…what? Two weeks? Three? Whatever…after weeks of drifting through the swamp, the sight of any building that big felt bizarre. As we got closer, that feeling was replaced by disbelief.

_Oh my God…_

The scene rapidly approaching was straight out of any horror movie. It wasn't as if I hadn't already acknowledged that I had been _living _in a horror movie pretty much since I left home, but I had never seen anything quite this…extensive. I had started my apocalyptic experience in a suburb of Savannah. I hadn't gotten much of a chance to see the large scale destruction in cities. Some of the buildings ahead had gaping holes ripped in them. _From what? Tanks? No way even _they _could cause that kind of damage…_A few tendrils of smoke crept out of the ruined city. _How could the fires still be burning?_ _Maybe there's no one left to put them out_.

My mind flashed to a different skyline, thousands of miles north. It applied the damage liberally and I shook my head. _Stupid. Even if that _did _happen, they had no reason to be downtown._

"Wow," Rochelle whispered, "This is even worse than Savannah…" Nick sighed.

"Not really. It's just had more time to…go downhill." The ensuing silence was broken by the scream of several jets overhead. We whipped our heads up just in time to see three fighter jets streaking toward the city.

"All right!" Coach exclaimed, "Military's still here!" Nick frowned,

"You don't evacuate people in fighter jets." As if to underline his point, we heard a faint explosion from the city…right after the jets had passed it. We were all completely silent for a moment. "So…let me get this straight…Virgil wants to drop us off in the city?" Nick continued. I shook my head. _Yeah…fuck that. Zombies I can deal with. Military grade bombs…not so much._ Coach sighed and turned to go inside.

"I'll go talk to him…" he trailed off. As soon as the door shut behind him, Nick started to open his mouth again, but Rochelle beat him to the punch,

"I swear to God, Nick, if the next words out of your mouth are 'I told you so', I am legally obligated to punch you in the face." Nick held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Two things. Princess here beat you to it…" I rolled my eyes. "_and _I said the army was going to line us up against the wall and _shoot _us. So technically speaking…" He saw the look on Rochelle's face and rolled his eyes. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Ro, if there isn't a way around it, we can always stick on this shithole boat for a couple more weeks, right?" Before any of us had a chance to respond, the boat rolled to a complete stop, much to my relief. Virgil and Coach stepped out of the cabin.

"Look, ya don't believe me, look for yourself," Coach insisted. Virgil stared at the skyline just long enough to hear another distant explosion. His lips drew into a thin line.

"I'll go 'n get the radio…see what's goin' on," he said. We followed him back into the cabin. As we waited, Ellis nudged my shoulder,

"Well…another break on the boat ain't _that _bad." I offered half a grin and squeezed his hand. I realized the static on the radio had stopped and Virgil and Coach were talking with someone on the radio. Somehow, I was still amazed at the sound of another human voice. _Yeah. Another guy from the sounds of it. A 2 to 5 ratio of women to men? Good luck repopulating the Earth…_I pressed my lips together to hold in a snort.

"Looks like you're a bit ahead o' schedule, there, Gator," Virgil said into the microphone.

"_Don't see how you can expect much else,_" the voice on the radio returned,"_Radio silence on your end, and everyone else has pulled out already. Haven't seen a new survivor in a week. About ready to pack up and bring everyone back to base._"

"Well, whattaya expect me ta do with this load, then? Can't exac'ly drop 'em off at the dock ag'in…" There was a long period of silence.

"_Are they immune?_" Coach pushed closer to the radio and pressed the button before Virgil had a chance.

"We are _not _infected," he said clearly. Another second of silence passed before the radio crackled to life again.

"_Negative, are you _immune?_ Have you encountered the Infected?_"

"_Encountered?_" Coach asked incredulously. _Here we go…_"Boy, I have been covered in zombie blood and puke and eyeballs and twenty other parts I don't even recognize. We are immune as _shit!_" _Normalcy. Isn't that nice?_ Virgil rolled his eyes and grabbed the microphone back.

"I've had them on the boat for 'bout two weeks now…since the 29th. They've definitely been exposed, and ain't a one of 'em that's shown any sign of turnin'."

"_Rescue Seven, are you equipped for carriers?_" We exchanged looks. _Must've left his end on. What in the hell is a carrier, anyway? _A second voice chimed in,

"_Affirmative, Papa Gator_."

"_Alright. We have pulled out of that sector. Their only remaining pickup is available at the east end of the bridge. Our last chopper is scheduled to leave in thirty minutes. You should be able to get your boat to the platform directly._"

"Alright, Gator, sounds real good. I can get them there easy." With that, Virgil flicked off the switch on the radio and went back to steering the boat. Coach turned toward him,

"Didn't know you were with CEDA, Virgil." Virgil shrugged without looking at him,

"'m not. Nothin' 'ficial, anyway."

"Anybody have any idea what that guy meant by 'carriers'?" I asked. Nick snorted,

"No idea. But, apparently, most everyone wants them dead…whatever they are." I was still confused. "The graffiti in the safe houses? 'Kill all carriers'? Ringing any bells?" I nodded slowly. I remembered skimming over the writings on the walls of the safe houses when I got bored or sentimental. Neither of those moods were real appreciative of the death threats; I had always gravitated more to the notes to loved ones instead. Ellis sighed.

"Yeah, I remember that…" I traced a finger down the barrel of my pistol and frowned.

"Maybe it's what they call the chargers or something?" I suggested hopefully. Nick snorted.

"Yeah," he said, "Because it makes _so_ much sense for them to need their helicopters equipped for _chargers_."

* * *

Soon, we were all back on the deck, the helipad rapidly approaching. _Lovely. Another one of those times where whether you live or die is determined in the next ten minutes. _I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and gripped Ellis' hand tighter. There was a click behind us.

"Asshole locked the door. I gather we're not welcome anymore," Nick commented. The boat bumped gently against the concrete platform and we all awkwardly jumped to dry land. There was a huge military helicopter sitting there, blades already whirling. We walked quickly to the open ramp in the back, freezing when we found we weren't alone.

Two people in biohazard suits were standing in the back of the barren space, machine guns trained on us.

"_Throw your weapons out the back!_" one of them barked in a mechanical voice. My pulse thudded loudly in my ears as we obeyed their instructions. We didn't have much of a choice. With all this, the only insane thought running through my mind was that I supposed I hadn't had a gun pointed at me in a while. I said my mental goodbyes to my pistol and bloodstained machete and turned back to the people poised to shoot us.

"Wait here," one said. The two of them backed through a door in the front and locked it behind them. The helicopter started to lift off and we crowded around the windows. There was Virgil's boat, looking impossibly small against the backdrop of the suspension bridge. Before we'd been in the air thirty seconds, there was another scream of jet engines and the bridge flew apart with a rocking explosion. We sank down to the floor. I don't think any of us wanted to see the rest of the city from the air.

"Jesus," Nick muttered, "What are they _doing?_"

"Quarantine."

We all whipped our heads around to the voice behind us. It was one of the biohazard suits. "We haven't seen any signs of…well, _real_ life for a week now, so there's no point leaving an open channel where they can spread even further." Coach opened his mouth to ask something, but the person shook their head. "There's not really much time to explain anything now. We're dropping you all at one of our bases. Someone else will take it from there."

There wasn't much else we could do. For better or for worse, we were already in the air. _Trapped? Rescued? Who the hell knows?_

_ Well…think. So your three broad possibilities are that you are going to your own execution, you have been taken prisoner (reason unknown), or that you have been rescued by the military. If nothing else, you can probably eliminate the first one. If they wanted you dead, they wouldn't have bothered picking you up in the first place._

* * *

A few hours passed before we landed and were escorted out of the helicopter at gunpoint. The biohazard suits led us to a good-sized airplane. _Wherever we're going, it's not close._

When we got on board, I noticed most of the usual amenities of the airplane had been stripped. The trays and overhead luggage doors had been removed, probably to prevent us from trying to use them as weapons. Rochelle, Nick, and Coach filed into one side of the aisle and me and Ellis took the two seats across from them. Before our guards had a chance to leave, a third biohazard suit came walking in.

"_Looks like we're all going to be stuck on this plane after all,_" the newcomer complained. I heard one of our guards sigh.

"_Goddamn…that group from offshore still giving us trouble?_"

"_Yeah…the usual._"

"_This should be fun…crazy bastards, anyway…_"

_Huh. More people. What do you know? Humanity might stand a chance after all._ A few minutes later, the other survivors were led in, restrained by handcuffs. _Oh, hey, another chick. _I wasn't too impressed by the group of three walking toward us. The rest of my team, on the other hand, and the group of newcomers for that matter, did a collective double take. _What the hell?_ Nick was the first to recover.

"Well, fancy seeing you here again, Cupcake," he said drily. I was beyond confused. _Cupcake?_ The girl in the front of the group rolled her eyes and scowled,

"I _thought_ I told you to go to hell, Colonel Sanders."

* * *

_A/N: Again, sorry for the long update time! Honestly, I started trying to write a fluffy chapter, but it would have been an 800 word update. Literally. I have _no_ idea how to pull off fluffy. So then my brain was all like, "you know what you haven't done in a while? Blown shit up." So I fast-forwarded to New Orleans._

_And yes, I'm totally skipping The Parish. I always thought it was kind of crappy for Virgil to leave them outside the city like that when the helicopter is _by water_ and he has a _freaking boat._ Yes, I realize I took a little liberty assuming there actually _was_ a water path to the chopper…and that Virgil could contact the military…oh well. Speeds things up this way, right?_

_Oh, and that song quote from the beginning really only applies to the first half of the chapter. I think we need something more depressing for the last part (I listened to Sound of Silence practically on a loop while I was writing it!)_

_If you read all of this ridiculous author's note…um…here. Have a virtual snickerdoodle. _


	24. Breathe Me

"_Yeah, I think that I might break…lost myself again and I feel unsafe."_

The newcomers and the rest of my team exchanged a few awkward glances before they finally sat down, their handcuffed hands sitting uncomfortably in their laps. My eyebrows drew together as I glanced between Nick and the new girl.

"Um…I take it you guys know each other?" I asked. The girl snorted,

"Please. I hardly think talking to that prick for twenty minutes counts." Coach shrugged.

"We ran into 'em on a bridge in Rayford," he explained. _Because I totally know where that is._ "Not too long before we ran into you, actually." The thinner man in the new group craned his neck over his shoulder.

"Sorry 'bout all that," he said with an apologetic smile. "We've all been a little…_stressed_ lately." My lips twisted. _Is he serious?_

"Yeah…I can imagine," I said dryly. He smiled again.

"My name's Louis," he said, "This is Francis and this is Zoey. What's your name?"

"Kate."

"Nice to meet you. I would shake hands but…" he raised his cuffed hands with a half smile. Francis interrupted with a groan,

"For Christ's sake, Louis! We're stuck on a plane, stuck with CEDA, and you want to do a meet and greet?" Coach frowned,

"What's wrong with CEDA?" Francis shot him a look.

"You're screwing with me right?" There was a short pause. "Well for starters, they _did_ try to kill us…"

"That can't be right," Coach argued, "Why the hell would they pick us up to kill us?" Zoey sighed.

"I don't know," she started. "All I _do_ know is CEDA's _not_ big on carriers." I groaned.

"There we go again," I said, "What the _hell_ is a carrier?"

"Any of us," Zoey replied cryptically. "It's anyone who's been…_exposed_ to the virus, but hasn't turned." I frowned.

"So…immune?" Rochelle ventured. Zoey shook her head,

"No." None of this was making things _any_ clearer. "Look, you guys have been out in this shit for…what?"

"Three weeks?" Coach guessed. Zoey nodded to herself,

"Yeah…you're in the same boat as us."

"Get to the goddamn point, Cupcake," Nick broke in. Zoey shrugged,

"Point is…we're infected. We all are." Silence.

"Funny," Nick started, "I would think I would _notice_ that."

"You don't _show_ any symptoms. That's what a carrier _is_. We're infected. We just don't turn into zombies."

"_Real_ comforting. So what the hell does that mean?"

"It means…" she hesitated. "We can still infect people. People who _aren't_ carriers."

"Shit…" Ellis swore. _Is that the first time he's said anything? _ "The chopper pilot…" My eyes dropped. The pilot…the one who'd mysteriously gotten infected halfway through the flight from Whispering Oaks…Francis snorted,

"You guys too? Join the club."

"Not funny, Francis," Louis grumbled.

"So they're rounding us up and shooting us because we can still infect them?" Nick summarized. No one bothered to contradict him. He scoffed. "Damn. You guys must've had a _hell _of a few weeks since Rayford…"

"Nah," Francis said dismissively, "Got that hellhole over with _before_ we got stuck in the middle of nowhere." Zoey and Louis glared at him pointedly. There was a long silence.

"You mean to tell us," Nick started, voice lowering dangerously, "that you had _already_ been picked up by CEDA, figured out they were out to _kill_ people, heard us say we were heading for the _safe zone_, and you decided we _didn't need to know any of that?_" Zoey, Francis, and Louis turned around as one.

"We look after our own," Zoey said. The way she said it, it sounded like a mantra. _We look after our own_. The sentence spawned a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"And _what_," Nick continued, "would it have cost _you_ to pass any of that along?" She was silent. They all were. The whole notion was ridiculous. We look after our own? It was just a few baby steps beyond taking care of number one. Where would _any _of us be if we'd followed _that_ particular rule? If these three had found me in Georgia, they might have just _left_ me there.

"You know," Francis started defensively, "It's not as if you guys would do anything different. If you had to choose...one of us or one of you? You'd always pick you." Nick glared at the back of his head.

"There wasn't any _choosing_ that needed to be done." He sank back against the headrest. "If we would've known all that shit, we could have _done _something about it. Holed up somewhere. Waited it out. Something. Not gone off looking for rescue from people who want us dead." He sighed. "Three words. 'CEDA's killing survivors'. All it would've taken."

I mulled that over for a few moments. First came panic. Nick was right. CEDA was going to line us up against the wall and shoot us. Maybe not _literally_, but the end result was the same. We were going to die.

Next came anger. How in the _hell_ did these other survivors justify not telling any of the others? Nick was right. It would have cost these people _nothing_ to give fair warning.

Finally…I realized I would have been dead either way. If someone _had_ had the balls to tell them? No one would have showed up to find me. There would have been no racecar parking behind my crappy, scratched up car. I would have woken up, tried to defend myself with that godforsaken _squeegee_ and gotten my throat ripped out in five minutes. Tops. If I was going to die, I kind of preferred it this way. At least I got a few extra weeks…meaningful ones.

_Even if it wouldn't have changed anything for you, it could have made a world of difference to them. They could have survived…_

My stomach squirmed uncomfortably as I felt the wave of guilt wash over me. Of course. How could I find even slight relief in that? Just because _I_ couldn't think of a reality where I didn't end up dying now didn't mean the rest of the team shared that fate. Worse? I _still_ felt relief. I _still_ preferred this series of events. I would greedily hang onto those extra weeks I'd been given…after all, they'd already happened. What could _wishing_ things were different change?

Before I could think about it any further, a pair of CEDA agents returned to the cabin of the plane and took seats behind us, guns balanced menacingly on their laps. The engines on the plane whined to life and the announcement system on the plane crackled with static.

"_Attention. We are prepared for takeoff. Estimated time of arrival ten hours._"

The system turned off and the plane began making its slow way down the runway. My fingers tried their best to tunnel into the hard armrests. Ellis nudged my left hand to get my attention. I relaxed my death grip and looked at him with a carefully controlled expression on my face. _Whatever you do, don't start crying, damn it!_ He gently took my hand and even managed a smile.

"Listen, they wouldn't fly us somewhere for _ten hours_ jus' t' shoot us," he whispered. "I don' know what's gonna happen, but we'll get through this, okay?" I took a deep breath through my nose, closed my eyes and nodded. He leaned in and kissed me briefly. "We'll be okay…"

I shifted and leaned my head on his shoulder, still gripping his hand. I kept my eyes squeezed shut throughout the screaming takeoff, trying to reassure myself everything would turn out in the end.

_We'll be okay…we'll be okay…_

* * *

I must have fallen asleep at some point. As I woke up, I didn't bother moving, despite the crick in my neck and my sore hand. Ellis was still asleep and besides, I would definitely take my little comforts where I could. I rolled my eyes to the side to see Coach, Rochelle, and Nick were also sleeping in their seats. Judging from the angle of his head, the tattooed biker guy…Francis…was also asleep. And snoring. I almost laughed, but couldn't quite bring myself to do it. My eyes slid closed again and I tried to concentrate on the white noise…the whir of the engines, the slow, even breathing next to me…hell, even the snoring.

As soon as I _almost _felt like I could drift off again, I made out some whispering in the seats in front of me. _Shut _up_._ I opened my eyes a crack and saw Louis and Zoey deep in conversation. _Whatever. Maybe they're planning on escaping. And ditching us. Let them do whatever the hell they want…_Despite myself, I caught a few words.

"…probably just over-thinking it," Louis was saying.

"I don't know…seemed pretty obvious to me."

"He was probably just nervous or something. You heard what they said…it was probably their first day out in all this." _They're talking about us? No…not us. Everyone but me. _Zoey snorted quietly.

"Yeah, sure. Because what's anyone's normal reaction to a zombie apocalypse? _Hitting _on people." I was confused. _What? I really don't think "cupcake" counts as _hitting_ on anyone. _

"I still don't think—"

"He has a goddamn _girlfriend_, Louis." _Rochelle, maybe? _

"Zo, they met her _after_ Rayford." I froze. _Definitely not Rochelle. And for that matter…_

_ Oh, don't be an idiot. This is getting dangerously close to paranoid. What, you think he could've _faked_ the last few weeks? Seems like a hell of an effort to go through just to get in your pants or something…I don't think you know a whole lot of guys who would _risk their lives _on the off chance they'd get laid. You're supposed to listen to some assholes that you _just_ met and that are only concerned about _themselves_ over the people you've been with for almost a month? _Ridiculous.

Too late, I noticed Zoey turning around to look straight at me. She jumped a little when she realized I was awake. A pitying look spread across her face and I felt a flare of annoyance. Who was she to make judgments here? I quashed the illogical unease my eavesdropping had caused me _firmly_, raised an eyebrow, and rolled my eyes. She frowned, shrugged, and faced forward again.

I _knew_ my fears were stupid and unfounded, but that didn't stop me from dwelling on it. I closed my eyes again, took a deep, silent breath, and focused on memories rather than the present.

_Remember that time you two camped out on the boat's deck? _We had been talking on the roof of the _Lagniappe_ again when the topic of camping came up. Apparently, Ellis' mom used to take him camping all the time as a kid. When I told him I'd never really gone camping, he flatly didn't believe me at first.

_"C'mon, ya mean t' tell me you've never been campin'?"_

_ "Yeah? Unless sleeping in a cabin in Yellowstone counts?"_

_ "Nope."_

_ "Bunk beds on a field trip to Lake Superior?"_

_ "Not even close."_

_ "Hmm…I guess I slept in a tent on the football field a couple of times?"_

_ "Uh huh. And jus' how many people were out there with you?"  
"…a thousand?"_

_ "Now that's jus' sad."_

He was _determined_ that I was missing out on something. Truth be told, I could kind of see the appeal…especially somewhere nice and quiet. I'd thought we'd dropped the subject, but after dinner that night, he led me outside and proudly showed me a makeshift tent he'd set up.

_"Is that our _blanket_?"_

_ "Well, I didn't exactly have a tent…"_

_ "Where'd you get sleeping bags?"_

_ "Virgil found 'em."_

_ "Ellis, what on earth is the _coffee can_ for?"_

_ "Campfire."_

_ "Steal Nick's lighter again?"_

_ "Maybe…"_

I was impressed. Considering we were on a little boat in the middle of nowhere, he'd managed to recreate the experience pretty well. Granted, the coffee can fire didn't turn out to be the _best _idea (the deck caught on fire a little), Nick grouchily stole his lighter back within an hour, and the worn out blanket didn't _entirely_ keep out the light rain, but it didn't matter. It was little things like _that_ that had made me giddily happy and terrified at the same time.

That had been the night before the witch. In a twisted way, I was thankful she'd come. If it hadn't been for her damaging the gas tanks, and the brutal events that followed, we would likely _still_ be in this situation, but I would have never had the balls to say anything about how I felt.

* * *

The next time I woke up, my neck was so stiff, I was half convinced I'd never get my head upright again. I yawned and stretched as best I could in the confined space.

"Ugh…" I muttered, "Are we _there_ yet?" If they were planning on killing us, they could at least hurry it up a little.

"Have to be," Rochelle answered, "I don't know how much further north we can _get_."

"North?" Rochelle shrugged,

"Ten hour flight. We'd be over ocean if we'd headed west or east, and I don't know about you, but white _everywhere_ doesn't seem much like South America." I reached across Ellis to pull the window shade up. Sure enough, the landscape below was dominated by endless white. And it wasn't because we were still in the clouds. We were descending. I frowned and leaned back in my seat, cupping my throbbing ribs with one hand and wishing I could have gotten a better glimpse at where we were headed. The speaker over our heads clicked on again,

"_Attention. We are making our descent. Keep your restraints fastened and prepare for landing._"

I stared straight ahead for the last few minutes of our flight, unmoving, almost unblinking. Now that we were about to land, I had no way of knowing whether my life was measured in years, days, or minutes. I felt eerily calm about the whole situation. It didn't really feel like it was happening to me anymore; it was more like watching a distantly familiar set of people on TV. _How will our favorite survivors get out of this one? Find out next week on Survivor: Zombie Apocalypse._

As we finally coasted to a stop, the CEDA agents got up and recited another canned set of directions,

"_Remain in your seats. For your safety and the safety of others, you will be handcuffed before exiting the aircraft. Resistance will be met with force._" The agent speaking came to each of us individually and placed the plastic cuffs on our wrists. _Because I'd totally try to attack two people with automatic weapons with my bare hands. No thanks. I choose ten more minutes of life._

We exited the plane single file. I shivered as we stepped outside. We were in a large hangar, several degrees colder than the cabin. _Handcuff problem number fourteen: can't rub arms when freezing one's ass off_. Once we were all off the plane, a CEDA agent came up and began reciting instructions it seemed she'd given a million times before,

"_Stay where you are until you are called forward for a medical examination._" She marked off something on a clipboard and pointed to me, Zoey, and Rochelle. "_You, you, and you. Let's go._" None of us moved forward. _They're separating us?_ I was uncomfortably reminded of the lopsided ratio of men to women I'd noticed before. _What if…_

"Yeah…I don't think so," Francis growled. The CEDA agent looked up from her clipboard. She was probably frowning…it was hard to tell through the face mask.

"_Yes,_" she began dryly, "_I forgot. _You're_ in command of this facility. My mistake_." Francis shook his head again.

"She goes, we go," he insisted, "She stays, we stay."

"_Obviously you have a poor grasp on the notion of sarcasm._" The other agents around us lifted their weapons threateningly. "_You see,_" she continued, "_Everyone goes where _I_ say they go. And right now, I'm telling _you _to _stay put_._" She looked at me, Rochelle, and Zoey in turn. "_Now, I _suggest_ you three get moving_." We didn't know what would set them off, so we did as we were told. I glanced at Ellis behind me before I went. _Handcuff problem number fifteen: can't properly say goodbye before following a dubiously trustworthy soldier to the "doctor"._ I managed a quick smile.

"Guess I'll see you in a few minutes," I said, attempting to sound casual. There were other things I _wanted_ to say…but it felt too much like that would somehow jinx the situation, make it seem more threatening than it already was. _Besides…I think he knows. We both do._ Ellis hesitated for a moment before returning a brief encouraging smile and a nod.

As soon as we had entered a hallway just off the hangar, I heard some indistinguishable yelling, followed by a brief burst of gunfire. _No! _Someone was screaming. My head was swimming too much to know whether it was me. My mouth went dry and my heart hammered wildly against my ribcage. I turned quickly, but could see nothing. _Ellis…_

The CEDA agent leading the way noticed we'd stopped and turned around impatiently.

"_Let's _go_, ladies_," she said, "_The doctor doesn't have all day_." Somehow, all of us managed to get our feet to move again. _Can't be….couldn't be…why would they bring us here just to…? _I was having a hard time staying on my feet, needing to concentrate on not stumbling._ No. There _has_ to be another explanation. _Black dots crowded across my vision. I couldn't believe they were dead. I _refused_.

On the surface, I felt numb. Ringing in my ears obscured any meaningful sound. My body blindly followed the orders of the CEDA agent. Like a puppet. Layers beneath, buried by shock, was barely bridled rage. That part of me wanted to scream and struggle and _fight_. But for now, numbness ruled me and kept me docile.

We came to an abrupt stop, nearly making me face plant directly into the concrete floor.

"_We're here_," the agent said, "_You'll be called in individually. Stay put until your name is called._" With that, she pressed a button on the wall, producing a harsh buzzing noise. The white noise continued for a minute before the speaker crackled to definite life.

"_Kate Schultz?_"

I took a long, deep breath to calm myself before I shakily stepped forward. My whole body felt numb, and I wasn't entirely sure I could feel my legs, but I managed to walk to the reinforced steel door, tailed by a CEDA guard.

The examination room was anything but welcoming. The walls were mostly concrete, with occasional rust-colored stains I didn't want to think about. There was an ugly metal slab of a table set in the center of the room, surrounded by a few whirring machines and ominous syringes. I shuddered. _Couldn't they just shoot me?_

The doctor emerged from a curtained-off area on the left side of the room. She was not wearing the standard CEDA protective gear, but simple brown scrubs and a facemask, graying black hair stopping just past the straps. Her friendly appearance was completely incongruous with the room we were in. If anything, it made me _more_ uneasy. She saw I was here and her eyes crinkled into what I assumed was a smile.

"Well, that was fast," she commented airily. She came closer to me and I fought the instinct to take a step back. She frowned. "Would you mind getting those cuffs off, Harry?" she asked, addressing the guard. "Pretty obvious this one isn't infected." My handcuffs were removed. I clasped my hands together in front of me, not sure what to do with them. The doctor motioned to the ominous table and I sat down. I felt I had no real choice.

"Kate?" I warily met the doctor's eyes. "I'm Dr. Madison." I stayed frozen where I was, fingers gripping the edge of the metal table. Dr. _Madison_ sighed and started arranging some of the ominous pointy things more to her liking. "All right, Kate, I'm going to ask you a few questions." _She can't be fucking serious._ She uncapped a pen and produced a clipboard from nowhere. My lips pressed into a thin line. I felt a few tears threatening to squeeze out of my eyes.

"Okay…" she started, "How old are you?" _Really? Judging by the excessive friendliness and use of my first name, I'd say about five and a half._ I cleared my throat.

"Twenty-one." My voice felt several octaves lower than usual. There were a few other run of the mill questions. Date of birth. Hometown. Whether it was possible I was _pregnant?_ From the redundant lessons in my high school health classes, that one got a clear _no_. _Yeah…lady, I get sore enough _walking _from these damn ribs, thank you _very _much._ _Gotta give 'em credit though. Bastards are thorough…_

"When was the first time you had contact with the infected?" _Well, that escalated quickly._ "This includes bites, scratches, cuts, prolonged exposure to individuals prior to physical mutation—"

"I don't know…" I interrupted. "Middle of March?" She jotted something down.

"Alright Kate, do you have any wounds inflicted by the infected?" I raised an eyebrow. _Seriously? Only about seven and a half million…_I guessed she meant the _first_ one and gestured dully at my right arm. As soon as I held out my arm, she gingerly unwound the bandage. When it was completely removed she frowned.

"Hmm…whoever did this did a lot more harm than good," she muttered to herself. She was looking at my stitches. I glared at her. "These will _definitely _scar…"

"Shut _up_," I hissed. She pretended not to hear me.

"Should be able to remove these now, at the _very_ least." She continued her examination for the next few minutes in blessed silence. I didn't say another word as she poked and prodded here and there. I kept my eyes closed for the most part and concentrated on breathing in and out, counting heartbeats to distract myself.

When she finished poking around, she returned to her tray of pointy things.

"Alright, Kate," I was _really _starting to hate the sound of my name. I wanted to shake her by the shoulders and tell her we were, most certainly, _not friends_. "All we need is a quick blood sample and we'll be good to go." _Aaand of course there's needles. _I glanced nervously at the tray. There were four syringes there, laid out neatly. _What is she going to do to me? This is definitely not just a blood sample. _Let me out! _I want to go _home…

Dr. Madison laid a comforting hand on my shoulder. I cringed.

"Don't you worry, sweetheart…" There was a jabbing pain in my left shoulder. My head swam. "It's all going to be okay…" I shook my head and the floor and ceiling switched places. _What's happening? Help! I don't want to die…_My last conscious thoughts were of the hangar. I mustered my last bit of strength.

"Where…?" My eyes slid closed and my body fell backward. Everything was black.

* * *

_A/N: Yeah…I can't tell you how long I've had most of this chapter sitting on my computer. It has been a really crazy couple of months…_again_. Once more, I'm really sorry for the time it took to update!_


	25. Coming Undone

_"Keep holding on when my brain's ticking like a bomb…guess the black thoughts have come and came to get me…"_

I couldn't tell which way was up and my eyes felt too heavy to open. I felt myself moving, but I wasn't sure whether I was _actually_ going somewhere, or just dizzy from whatever had been injected into my arm. My body felt mostly numb and heavy, with the exceptions of usual throbbing in my midsection and what felt like a drill going through my temple.

_Ungh…_

As I recovered more fully, I realized I _was_ moving. Being pushed. I tried once again to force my eyes open, but only managed to have my head loll uselessly to the side. _Where…where are they taking me?_

"_This'll work_," someone said. My heart started pounding. _What will…?_ I heard some loud creaking before I felt someone picking me up.

"_Mmmmh…_" I tried to protest. I was ignored and placed unceremoniously on what felt like a mattress. There was the sound of something heavy being rolled away, another ear-splitting creak, and a final click. I had a hard time making sense of everything, but my brain insisted on one word: _trapped_. My eyes struggled open once and saw nothing but gray. Against my will, they slid closed again.

_No! Stay awake!_

I still couldn't _move_. And I was so damned _tired_…

_Snap out of it! You need to get a hold of yourself!_

But I couldn't…whatever drugs I had in my system, they were _strong_. The small noises around me dissolved into static and my head sank further down.

* * *

"_Kate…_"

I groaned and tried to shake the unwelcome voice from my pounding head. _Go away…_

"_Kate…_"

_Just a few more minutes…ugh, my head feels like crap. Maybe I can just skip classes today…_

"Kate!"

I unhappily startled awake. My eyes blinked open to see Rochelle's face hovering a few feet from mine, behind thick metal bars. She smiled,

"Finally, you're awake!" I groaned again.

"No thanks to you…" I mumbled. I ground the heel of my hand into my forehead and rose to my elbows. "Where _are_ we?" Most of the events of the past…day…hours…whatever…were distant and impossible to remember. Rochelle frowned.

"Not sure," she admitted. "My best guess is a CEDA holding facility." I glanced around my cell, taking note of the baggy, nondescript clothes I had been dressed in, the stained concrete floor, toilet not two feet from my bed, and the bars blocking my exit. _Peachy. That seems about right._ I sighed.

"Okay…great. Fantastic." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nose. "Where's…?" I didn't finish the sentence. Rochelle looked at the floor.

"Well," she started, "Zoey, wasn't it? Is in the cell next to you." I glanced to my left and recognized the girl from the other group, still passed out on her own cot. Rochelle sighed and drew my attention back to her. "As for the guys…" My eyes widened. I remembered.

"Rochelle…they didn't…did they?" My voice was suddenly small, pleading and unsure. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I don't know…" she confessed. My heart sank. Rochelle visibly composed herself and continued. "But…it just doesn't make any sense, sweetie. They took _us_ here…why would they…_not_ do the same for the guys?" I just lay back and closed my eyes. I didn't really want to answer. I felt like my theory on evening out the gender imbalance among the survivors was holding more and more water.

"What are we doing here?" I asked dully, eyes still closed.

"I don't know…"

We sat in silence until a guard came by, pushing a cart. He unceremoniously slid boxes of food into our cells and rolled on his way. I knew I hadn't eaten for several hours, but I didn't feel particularly hungry. _Cut the crap. If there's a way out of this…if they're still alive…you won't be helping anyone by starving yourself. I don't _care_ if you're hungry. _Eat.

I sighed and poked around the TV dinner-like contents of the box. I forced a bite into my mouth. As I chewed mechanically, I realized Zoey still hadn't moved. I swallowed.

"Um…Zoey?" I tried. She opened one eye and glared.

"You know, somehow 'I told you so' doesn't quite say it," she muttered. I narrowed my eyes back. Wasn't she the one that could have warned everyone in the first place? I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah…cut the Will Smith crap and eat your damn dinner," I snapped. I noticed Rochelle giving me a look, but couldn't bring myself to care. I couldn't entirely _logically_ explain it, but for a bunch of tenuous reasons, I did _not _particularly like her. Maybe under better circumstances, things would have been different.

No one spoke as we ate. The silence continued for the rest of what I assumed was the evening. I wasn't sure about the others, but personally I was too numb to really do much. I wasn't even…_thinking_ much. Maybe it was some small mercy of my brain. If I stopped and thought about what was happening, I didn't know how I would hold it together. _No. Fucking stop it. Right now. _I forced my eyes open. _There. That wasn't so hard, was it? Now move something important._

I filled my lungs in one long breath and wrenched myself to a sitting position.

_Now what?_

I was right; the, for lack of a better word, _moping_ was not going to help anything. But what else was I supposed to do in this stupid cage?

I heard a soft snore from my right. Rochelle was asleep again…not that I could blame her. I looked the other way. Zoey was tensely seated on the edge of her cot, staring at a point on the wall in front of her. For some reason, this made me remember the way she'd spoken earlier. Her acerbic tone was reminiscent of the one _I'd_ used in my first days in the apocalypse. The tone I'd used to ward people off and project false strength. Then I remembered how _I'd_ spoken to _her._

I felt like an asshole.

All of us had potentially lost a lot of people, but she'd been separated from literally _everybody_ she actually knew. At least _I_ had Rochelle to talk to if I needed it. I chewed on my lip uncomfortably, indecisively. I cleared my throat.

"Um…Zoey?" I tried. She didn't turn around, but I saw her flinch. I grounded myself with another deep breath. "Are you…okay?" It was a stupid question. She snorted, but didn't turn around.

"Oh, fine…_perfectly_ fine…" She sounded borderline hysterical. I closed my eyes and tried again.

"Look," I started, "I'm sorry for…snapping at you earlier. This…" I trailed off. I'd meant to say 'this isn't your fault', but that felt wrong. Wasn't it…at least indirectly? I shook my head and gave up on that train of thought. "Anyway…I know we're not exactly _friends_ or anything, but…we can't just _sit _here like this." She looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at me.

"You're trying to—" she cut herself off and glanced furtively around before she mouthed the last words. _Get out?_ I shrugged.

"Eventually. But I kind of doubt that's happening tonight…or anytime soon." I paused for a moment. "So, I thought both of us could use…a _distraction_." She snorted again, but turned fully around, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"A distraction," she repeated skeptically. I nodded.

"Just so we don't keep thinking about—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. What are we supposed to do? Reveal our _deepest darkest _secrets to each other? Ya know, girl talk?" Her voice was still biting, but I couldn't really blame her. I shrugged again.

"Hey, whatever floats your boat." She half-smiled briefly. I racked my brain for a topic that wouldn't set either of us off.

How she'd met her teammates? That would only make us _both_ focus on…

_Moving on._

Anything about previous family or friends had pretty much the same problem…

I could always ask about the usual orientation week crap…

_Yeah. Then you get to sound like Dr. Madison. I'm sure that would be pleasant._

"Hmm…" I mused out loud, "You ever see _Zombieland_?" She scoffed.

"Of course I have…"

"Okay," I said, leaning back on my hands, "We're adding to the list."

"You're kidding."

"Hey, if you've got something better to do…" She paused again.

"Alright…fine…"

"Well, for starters, I think most of the ones they had still apply…" Zoey snorted.

"Yeah. Can't tell you how often 'double tap' comes in handy."

"Cardio." _Not that it ever stopped Coach…_

" Seatbelts."

"Travel light." _Except when you're carrying a bunch of fucking gas cans._

"You know, I don't think I've ever been attacked in a bathroom…" I raised my eyebrow.

"Outhouse count?" I asked.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Nope. Not my most glorious moment, but at least I had my pants up." There was a short moment while we both contemplated the next obvious choice. By some silent agreement, we both decided it would be best if we skipped it. _Don't be a hero or be a hero…isn't difficult to tell what side of the debate she'd be on. _We were both left staring at our hands as the conversation abruptly died.

I leaned back again, lowering myself completely to the mattress and staring at the ceiling. I drummed my fingers impatiently against the thin sheets, trying to get rid of the thoughts starting to eat at the edges of my mind. Before I could get too far though, the food cart came rattling by again. I sat up and plucked the box from the floor. When I opened it, I frowned. _This_ meal came with pills: a handy little plastic cup sitting innocently next to my potatoes. I stared at the colorful assortment suspiciously and called after the guard that had dropped everything off,

"Hey!" He paused and turned around. "What are these?" He shrugged noncommittally.

"Painkillers," he said, "Also one to help you sleep." He turned and walked back down the hallway. As soon as the sound of his boots faded, Zoey dumped hers in the toilet and flushed emphatically.

"Painkillers, my ass," she scoffed.

"What makes you think that?" Rochelle asked. Zoey shrugged.

"Why trust them on anything?" I would have agreed with her, but the images running circles in my head and the throbbing in my abdomen were persuasive enough to convince me to down the assorted pills in one gulp. Zoey sighed.

"And just _why_ would you do that?" she asked irritably. I pursed my lips and scooped up a blob of gritty potatoes.

"Bruis—" _Come to think of it, I don't think I ever actually heard Dr. Madison's diagnosis on that one. _I shook my head. _Fuck it._ "Broken ribs," I said dully, "I'll take my chances." It was a pretty poor excuse for taking a bunch of unidentified pills from a probably hostile government agency. Hell, it wasn't even the _real _excuse. Brain bleach. Sleep. _Anything_. I needed to stop the incessant buzzing in the back of my mind.

I ignored the other two for the rest of the meal. I didn't feel the effects of the pills until well after we finished eating. My body felt lighter and my head started to feel too heavy to keep upright. I stumbled awkwardly to my cot and lay down. As soon as my eyes closed, I was knocked out.

* * *

Kaaaaaaate…

Oh, shut _up_…

Kaaaaaatie…

Are you deaf? Shut. It.

_ "Kate!"_

_ I opened my eyes and glared at the…sky?_

_ "Oh, good, you're awake!" I turned my head to the impossibly perky voice and did a double take._

_ "_Amy?_" She was kneeling right in front of me, looking a little thinner, but no worse for the wear. She scoffed at me jokingly._

_ "Well, no shit, Sherlock!" she quipped. She stood fluidly and held out a hand. I took it and was yanked to my feet. I glanced around and realized we were standing in the middle of a huge meadow. My scanning eyes brought me back to Amy's tauntingly grinning face._

_ "Okay…" I started slowly. "Now, don't take offense or anything, but…where are your claws?" Amy snorted and waved her manicured hand._

_ "Gone," she answered with another smirk. I took a deep breath._

_ "Okay…why…?" She snorted again and put her hands on her hips._

_ "Well, why the hell would I need them up here, genius?"_

_ "_Here?_ Where's…no, wait." I paused and thought. "I'm just high as fuck off those painkillers, aren't I?" Amy laughed outright._

_ "Geez…you really have no idea what the hell you're talking about, do you?" I rolled my eyes. This was getting infuriating._

_ "Okay, fine…dreaming, high, who cares? Last time I saw you—"_

_ "I had nine inch nails, red eyes, and a bad attitude?"_

_ "Okay, seriously, Amy. Dream or whatever the hell this is, you're pissing me off."_

_ "Terrified. Truly." She paused. "Soooo…how've you been?" I had no idea how to respond to that. My _God_, this was bizarre. _

_ "Um…fine? Don't we have _better_ things to talk about?"_

_ "Oh, right." She had the decency to look ashamed for half a second before getting a devilish look on her face. She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Ah fer one can think of plenty of things t' talk about." I cringed and glared at her._

_ "What is your _problem_?"_

_ "I don't think _I'm _the one with this _particular _problem, am I?"_

_ "Seriously, Amy. What the hell? I'm stuck in the middle of this mystical fucking meadow, having a conversation, albeit an _obnoxious_ one, with a friend I last saw as a _goddamn zombie_, and you want to talk about _that_?" She shrugged._

_ "What can I say?"_

_ "How about you start with what's going on? Dreams _never_ last this long." Amy paused for a long moment. _

_ "Well…kinda hard to really…who cares? It's classified anyway." I scoffed._

_ "What? Am I dead or something?" When her grin faded a little, I laughed. "Ya know, no offense or anything, but I'm pretty sure if I _was_ dead, I'd get a better escort." Amy shrugged again._

_ "What can I say? I thought I could at least snag the chance to apologize for the…" she gestured vaguely at me, "…you know." My arm. She meant my arm. I felt dizzy all of a sudden._

_ "Wait…so then…I am…?" Amy sighed impatiently._

_ "Did I ever say that?"_

_ "No…"_

_ "Then relax. Take in the scenery. You don't have a whole lot of time to waste anyway…" Her voice started fading away as her body twitched violently. I backed away cautiously._

_ "Amy?" Her eyes opened, revealing bright red irises. Her lips curled into a smile as her fingers lengthened into claws and the color drained rapidly from her skin. She hissed and I jumped. She laughed._

_ "Coward," she spat. "What are you…_scared_?" I backed further away from her, mute. "Oh, you _are_ scared. Why should I be surprised? Have you ever done anything different?" She advanced as I retreated. "You didn't even make an _effort_, did you?" Her voice rose an octave, "Oh, no, people with _guns_. I guess I should just do whatever they want. Golly gee, I bet this CEDA agent has our best interests in mind. Why don't I just follow her out like a good little girl? Oh? What's this? They shot my boyfriend?" She smiled mockingly, "Oops."_

_ I had no way to respond. I wanted to keep thinking there was nothing I could have done, but…what if she was right?_

_ I felt ground crumbling under my heels before I felt a burning, sharp pain in my ribs and fell over the edge. I was left alone again. The edges of the uniform landscape around me began rapidly fading away. My body tumbled through the blackness, a few discordant voices following me as I fell._

_ "We look after our own."_

_ "Whoever did this did a lot more harm than good…"_

"_You don't understand…"_

"_These will _definitely _scar…"_

"_Quarantine."_

"_Let's _go _ladies…"_

"_I can't _lose_ anyone else…"_

"_We'll be okay…"_

"_The doctor doesn't have all day…"_

"What's wrong with him?_"_

"_I don't know…"_

"_Why trust them on anything?"_

"_Especially you."_

* * *

"I think she's waking up!" I opened my eyes a crack and noticed Zoey looking directly at me through the bars that separated us.

"Nice to see you rejoining the land of the living," she said dryly. I sat up and massaged my head, wincing,

"Land of the…_damn_…how long was I _out?_" Zoey shrugged.

"No idea…but you missed three meals." _Shit. If they're going on any kind of normal…feeding schedule, I guess…that's a day. At least._ Zoey walked back to her cot and sat down cross-legged.

"Now…what have we learned about accepting strange medications from the government?" she asked, steepling her fingers. I rolled my eyes and waved her off.

"Yeah, yeah…bad idea. I know." I struggled against the impulse to roll over and go back to sleep; my eyes still felt heavily weighted down and my stomach was beginning to contract in a way that made my foggy head reel. I swallowed thickly; my mouth felt like it was trying to glue itself shut. "Did I miss anything?" Rochelle pursed her lips.

"Not really," she said. She shoved a small plastic water bottle through the bars. "You should drink this, sweetie. You'll feel better." I reached for the bottle gratefully and drained it in seconds. I cleared my throat.

"Um…thanks." I tapped my fingers impatiently against the mattress. I couldn't get the disjointed images of my likely drug-induced dream out of my head. It was like they were burned into my eyes. After a few minutes of restless finger tapping, I groaned in frustration and launched myself off the cot. I ignored the hell my ribs gave me for that motion and rapidly started pacing the cell. Zoey cocked her head to one side.

"Uh…what exactly are you doing?" she asked. _Oh, nothing. Just nervous energy from a dream about a probably dead friend outlining my mistakes for me. Carry on._ I racked my brain for a logical answer.

"I…well, we don't know how long we're going to be in here, right?"

"Right…"

"So…I'm…exercising." Zoey's eyebrows rose dramatically.

"Exercising." I tried a nonchalant shrug.

"Well, it's something to do anyway." Zoey nodded hesitantly and watched my progress around the tiny space for a few minutes before groaning.

"Okay, _stop_," she said, "You're driving me _crazy_. That's not exercising. It's _pacing_." I stopped just long enough to glare at her before continuing my manic pace.

"Kate…" Rochelle started hesitantly, "Just…sit down. If you need something to do, we can talk. This…" she made a meaningless hand gesture, "…isn't healthy." I snorted, but sat back on the cot anyway. For some reason, I'd never really felt the chafing urge for disobedience with Rochelle. Maybe it was because she always seemed more motherly than bossy-older-brotherly. _Whatever_.

"Oh for God's sake…" Zoey complained behind me. I could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "Spit it out." She paused for a second and I stayed silent. "That's how it's gonna be, huh?" I shrugged. I bristled and turned around.

"_Yes_, that's how it's going to be," I said acidly, "I don't _know _you. I met you _literally _days ago. All I know about _you_ is that you and _your _team were _perfectly _willing to withhold information from a group of fellow survivors. Just because…why? What the hell was the half assed reason you came up with? Oh yeah…" I cleared my throat dramatically. "_We take care of our own_, wasn't it?" Zoey's eyes narrowed, but I couldn't bring myself to care. "Such a _fantastic_ mantra to live by, don't you think? I mean, the only thing I don't understand is the _delay_."

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?" Zoey snapped.

"I mean, if you were going to _kill them_, why wait?" My voice was growing increasingly hysterical with every word I spoke. "You could have just shot them before they left…same thing, but _quicker_. Or was that just too much goddamned effort?"

"Kate…" Rochelle warned. I waved her off.

"No, no, you said we were going to talk, right? Let's _talk_. Let's have a nice, civil _discussion_ about how the sheer _stupidity _of _your _team led to the _deaths_ of most of _my _team." Zoey drew closer to my cell.

"We were _protecting _them," she hissed, gripping the bars tightly. "You don't want to _know_ the things we saw in Millhaven…what CEDA was _doing_ there…"

"Bull_shit_," I spat vehemently. "What, you wanted to spare our poor little innocent brains the harsh realities of the world? I think we managed to figure _that_ one out on our own. Thanks, though." Her glare faltered slightly and she was finally speechless. _Good. Give her some time to think _that _one over._ The silence lasted just long enough for me to start regretting my words (at least a little) again.

"You," she started with significantly more venom, "have _no _idea what we've been through. What _I've_ been through. _None_." I tilted my head to the side and interrupted her.

"Oh…poor _baby_. God knows you're the _only _one that's lived through the apocalypse. Give me a goddamn br—"

"Shut up," she spat. "Were _you_ ever on your own?" _What a weird question._

"Of course I was!" I said defensively, "I was on the highway from Savannah to Whispering Oaks—"

"Yeah, being in a huge vehicle shielded from most zombie attacks must have been _hell_."

"Sure, right before I about had my _goddamn arm ripped off_ by a witch," I bit out, holding the back of my arm against the bars separating us for emphasis. She stood and met me at the bars.

"That's the _worst_ that's happened to you?" I opened my mouth, but didn't have time to form a coherent response. "While you were off on some romantic little boat ride through the bayou, _I _was watching my mom turn into a monster and about rip my dad's _face_ off!"

"_Enough!_"

We both turned to see Rochelle standing in her cell, hands balled into fists, and _furious_. Honestly, I'd completely forgotten she was there.

"I am _sick_ of this," she said quietly. "In case you're forgetting, _we_ are not the enemy," her eyes darted pointedly at Zoey, "and _she _is not the enemy." Her eyes turned to me. "And if we're ever getting out of here, we all need to start _acting _like it." Stunned, both me and Zoey managed to nod. When I took the time to think about, she was probably right. Mostly. There were still some things that Zoey and her team had done that I was not willing to forgive…maybe I never would be…but she wasn't the one who'd locked us in here. I needed to focus on healing and looking for a way out. These arguments could wait.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, or what I _assumed_ to be a few weeks, the three of us fell into the same monotonous routine. In the first few days, we naively thought we would be able to spot a pattern, some way to escape. But there really _were_ no opportunities. The doors of our cells weren't opened for _anything_. We had to sleep there, eat there, even _bathe_ there (with a bucket, soap, and a towel). The guards even had the nerve to draw blood from us every couple of days for "testing" through the gaps in the bars; by the end of the first week, the crook of my right arm was dotted with tiny needle marks.

We mostly avoided anything but small talk. Zoey and I found a competitive outlet by exercising in our cells. For me, that usually meant a few minutes of overly vigorous activity before my still-healing ribs forced me to sit still.

Of course, when one of us woke up screaming in the middle of the night, it was a completely different matter. We had all agreed to actually _talk_ to each other about these nightmares. Unpleasant (to say the least), as it was, we figured it was a necessary evil. We wanted to keep each other sane as long as we could.

Through these late night conversations, we learned a lot about each other. Not only had Zoey's mother turned into a zombie, but she'd been forced to shoot her own father after he'd been bitten by her. Rochelle and I also learned about the teammate she'd lost, Bill. From all that had happened to her, I gathered it was a lot like losing her father twice.

By the time an escort of guards came to _finally _take us out of our cells, I still hadn't forgiven her, but I no longer _hated_ her.

* * *

_A/N: What was that about taking less than three months to update? I suppose I don't get my cookie this round…oh well…_


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